Paths Intertwined
by ms-citizenshiptest
Summary: An alternative view of pre-season 3 and on. Tony and Ziva meet aboard a flight to Washington, D.C.
1. Chapter 1

**I just wanna make you laugh**

**I just wanna see that smile**

**Babe, we're only here – oh - for a little while**

**I just wanna hold you till we fall asleep**

**I want love, I want us, I want you, I want me, I want peace…**

She hadn't seen home – the dry air, the salty waters, her own people – in a period of time that she did not care to formulate. It would become real for her then, difficult. Her brown eyes closed and opened, eyelashes falling and rising as she made her way through the airport in search of the terminal specified on her ticket. Her fingers were secured around her boarding pass while her shoulder easily carried the weight of her carry-on duffle bag. Sometimes, she was surprised it had lasted her that long. Things in her life were highly and frequently replaceable – contacts, weapons, fellow officers, and most expected of all – her luggage. It almost made her feel like a normal person. Could she do that? Could she be normal?

Her tan combat boots shuffled through the carpeted floor as she made her way to terminal 47B, a satisfied smile on her face curled ever so slightly. She had made it in time. "Ladies and gentlemen, flight 866 will be boarding momentarily. Please have your passports and boarding passes ready for our crew. Thank you for choosing Air France," a young attendant informed the travelers with a heavy French accent.

A brief incoming message on her phone caught her as she turned on her heels to join her fellow passengers. As always it read: _next assignment was delivered to your hotel room in the city – make contact once you land. N'see'a tova. _She scoffed quietly at the emotionless order and she brashly smashed shoulders with a passer by. Her brown rose to find a pair of hazel ones. The man they belonged to a man slightly older than her in an impeccably tailored suit jacket that she took quick note of. "I am sorry," she offered. She had not spoken in so long, her accent was thicker than usual. She cleared her throat and continued forward.

"Don't apologize," he replied in passing as his lips gifted her with a charming smile. "It's a sign of weakness." He continued down the line to claim his own space in line, but his unexpected answer caused her to take a second look at him over her shoulder. Intriguing, she mused.

Missing her observant eyes by a fraction of a second, the Italian cocked his head to the side to watch her go. Her strides and the way she handed in her ticket for scanning seemed effortless. His tongue clicked from one cheek to the other, feeling the mental head slap coming on for the thoughts roaming in his head as he studied her frame. Though her clothes were loose, leaving plenty to the imagination, their military style assured him of the prospects of a toned body covered beneath. There were always so many perks of working an international assignment. So many pretty women to admire in the world on a generous salary.

It was his turn to provide his boarding pass then. "Merci," he slipped as he passed a young blonde attendant. Her face flushed warmly as she handed him back his passport.

"Have a wonderful flight, monsieur." He offered her a classic DiNozzo wink in return and proceeded to board the awaiting plane with his bag swung over his shoulder. The fondness remained on his features as he naturally began humming the Magnum P.I. theme song per his own amusement.

* * *

The Israeli's group was one of the first to board the plane. Her eyes glanced overhead to confirm her seating assignment before she pushed her carry on into the luggage compartment and fell into her aisle seat. She had been on so many connecting flights in the last 24 hours that she silently prayed the window seat next to her would stay empty. Pushing her headphones into her ear, Hadag Nachash began to blast in her ears and she happily closed her eyes as she leaned her wild brown curls into her seat.

It only took a few minutes for her to start drifting off to sleep when she felt a presence beside her. She wouldn't have been the ninja assassin she was trained as a child if she hadn't. With a slight internal pout, she pulled out one of her earbuds and slowly looked up at the Italian stallion in front of her. He was wearing the same eager smile she had seen beforehand in the terminal. "What are the chances?"

She slightly squinted, rising from her seat and stepping aside in the aisle to grant him access. "It is not a large plane – I am sure you can make the precise calculation if you wanted." Her lips pursed together after her retort, giving him a once over before sliding back into her seat after him. She blinked once before looking around her seat for her dropped documents – an already used boarding pass from her initial flight.

He couldn't help but smirk, embracing her humor. Granted, he didn't know if she was being serious or not but he gave it the benefit of a doubt. Her stoic expression gave him nothing – it was almost as if she did it for a living – and he involuntary vowed to attempt and break the mold. "From Russia with love?" he asked slyly, handing her the printed ticket before settling more comfortably into his seat. The space in-between his seat and the next were not enough and s whining sound escaped as he tried to make the best of it.

"I did not get to enjoy it's pleasantries," she stuffed the ticket behind the netted pocket in front of her.

He raised his eyebrows, arms already folded over his chest. "Oh, come on – it's classic Bond?" He received a blank stare in return. "Bond," Tony took a dramatic pause. "James Bond," he finished in a stressed tone. Her eyes narrowed in further confusion and she watched as he offered his hand to her with a laugh. "I'm Tony – Tony DiNozzo."

"Ziva David," she gave his hand a firm shake.

"Hell of a grip you got there," that gifted him with a confident smile from his traveling companion. "What do you do for a living?"

Ziva's shoulders tensed for a moment, but she forced herself to relax at the question. He was just a man curious what she did for a living. Some would say that was how normal people made conversation. "I would tell you, but I would have to kill you," the threat rolled naturally off her tongue. The tips of her lips curled up almost unnoticeably.

He turned into her, placing his elbow on the armrest between them. "So you do know the classics!" His hazel eyes warmed over her, hanging onto the intrigue every word that came out of her mouth offered. Tony couldn't place it, but there was something about her. There was something about her that wasn't the same type of 'different' as his usual girl that he'd ever tried to impress. That probably made the conquest the more challenging, but it was a long flight. He had time – that is, if she let him live.

Ziva didn't know what that meant. She had already noted him to be an American, so was it 'classic' in the States to kill someone after giving away your profession? If so, their nations were not just allies in political ways. "You are American, yes?" She pondered, her fingers mindlessly playing with the golden Star of David around her neck. Her curls framed her face so effortlessly that he almost didn't hear her question.

He smiled when his brain allowed him to actually process the information. "Land of the free, home of the brave," he sang. "Your accent," he tapped his lips in thought, "It's middle eastern – Israeli?"

"Very good, Mr. DiNozzo - "

"Tony," he corrected. "Mr. DiNozzo is my father and while I'm sure we share the occasional similarity, I promise you you're better off with me."

Ziva glanced at him briefly, running her tongue over her teeth before flipping open an Israeli magazine between her fingertips. "Tony," she parroted. "Did you know that your name means 'praiseworthy' in Latin?"

His charming smile got her every time. She took it in every time he offered it to her and it took all of the energy in her body to not make it externally obvious. It had been a long time since any man affected her so easily. There was something about this particular one. It was obvious he yearned for attention and appreciation, but there was more – something beyond his juvenile personality. "Huh. You know, you should tell co-workers that." A wide grin spread across his face. "My boss, especially my boss."

* * *

Ziva had fallen asleep within a half hour of focusing on her magazine. Her conversation with the Italian had drifted, not that she minded. She needed the sleep. To be honest, she couldn't remember the last time she had the opportunity to close her eyes without the anxiety of an upcoming meet or her father – the Director of Mossad – calling in for an update, to discuss an issue, or contemplate an argument. Her magazine slid over her lap onto the space between her and Tony while her head fell to the side. Her arms instinctively wrapped around her body in response to the temperature dropping in the plane and her curls flew up and down as she breathed in and out. There was a light snoring sound that came from her, definitely a non-angelic sound. The pros outweighed the cons of this situation for Tony and he shrugged off the sound. Little did he know that months from now it would be one of her worst characteristics that would keep him up at night.

She looked so much younger when she slept. Her military tan and army green attire hung loosely on her body, but somehow it fit her just right. There was so much she didn't care to share with him – granted, they were just two people on an airplane ride. He didn't expect to find someone to bear the most sacred of secrets to, but he expected something. Wasn't that how people got to know each other? Tony shrugged the thoughts away as he shifted slowly, his fingers carefully lifting the armrest between them. She just looked so uncomfortable, and he could only hope that she wouldn't mind when she woke up.

The Israeli moved into the open space, finding his toned shoulder and leaning her head against it. An exhausted sigh came from her lips as her hands unraveled and fell into her lap. The strange warmth that the moment gave Tony was quickly fleeting as a surge of turbulence ran through the cabin. The force flung her toward him, her hand coming up to push against the closed window to keep them from being in an even more compromising situation while Tony's arm came around her waist to hold her in place. Her eyes were different then – darker –, her breath hitching in her throat as she took in the position she was now in. Her hot breath danced against his face and it took her a moment to draw back, to gather herself. "Excuse me," she breathed.

"Protection happens to be in my job description," his voice low as his hand came up naturally to tussle her hair away from her face. He watches as she involuntarily flinches but relaxes into the touch within seconds of processing the gesture. Noting it, he saves that for later – if later is in the cards for them. But if the DiNozzo charm has anything to do with it, there would be plenty of later. His father would be proud.

Ziva made sure to slide her hand across his slacks when she pushed off the wall she had been hanging onto. There were never any issues in the flirtation category; she didn't need that course at Mossad. "What a coincidence," she gave him a mysterious look before rising from her seat and head down the aisle.

The NCIS agent fought against his interest but failed. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ziva head into the stall and gathered he had a couple minutes to snoop. He unbuckled his seatbelt – the light atop their seats affirming his decision was a safe one turned off moments ago – and starting looking through the netted pocket in from of the Israeli's empty seat. Her prior boarding passes and Hebrew magazines told him nothing. But who willingly bought tickets with so many connecting flights? His fingers quickly flipped through her Israeli passport and he found himself smiling at her photograph. Everything was in Hebrew so there were no answers there. Tony jumped to his feet and pulled out her carry on bag, receiving a few stares from the other passengers. "You know girlfriends…" he scratched his head. "Always pack everything the way _they _like." He got some scoffs but quickly rummaged through her items anyway. His fingers fiddled through a few pairs of cargo pants, feeling their light material, until they laced around a small army knife. His eyes widened_; how did she get that past security?_

Running a hand across his eyebrows, Tony zipped up the bag up quickly and pushed it back up into the overhead compartment. She'd be back any minute. _Come on – think on your feet, DiNozzo. _He made his way down the aisle just in time, doing what DiNozzo did best. He pushed inside as the door creped open, sending Ziva back a few steps. There wasn't much space to go and she held onto either side of the small room, her eyebrows raised at him. He gave her a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, didn't see you there, Ziva." She returned a look of confusion with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

"Do you experience separation anxiety with all of the other passengers you fly next to?" She waited, watching the door roll and click behind him. "I believe this is an invasion of privacy," her fingers motioned to the overall situation unraveling. He watched her cock her head to the side to study him before proceeding forward. Still confused, Ziva tried to get around him as best she could but there was only so much movement the quarters allowed. Another jolt of turbulence pushed her against the sink and she grabbed a hold of his neck to keep her standing. She quickly found that they were good at getting themselves into situations like this and she didn't even know the first thing about him.

Her eyes seeped into his, strengthening her hold around his neck as her back arched to his hold. Her mouth opened and closed while her mind formulated what to say next since he wasn't talking. But she too had nothing once she felt his other hand raise and lose itself in her soft curls. "What are you doing?" There it went – her years of Mossad training out the window. She could hear her father yelling at her, telling her she was weak and unprofessional. At her age, she could recite his usual disappointment lectures in her sleep.

"Who are you?" he whispered as his lips brushed hers. He heard her suck in a breath and before she could give him an answer – or whatever it was she was going to give him – an abrupt knock came from the other side.

"Sir?" A female flight attendant called through the door.

A heavy sigh came from the Italian then and Ziva felt a quick tug at her hand as he made a swift exit. "Sorry, folks. You know how it goes," he flashed the line of people a triumphant smile while Ziva trailed close behind. Her jaw tightened and her brain went through the different methods she could kill him with without anyone noticing before the plane's wheels would hit the Dulles Airport ground. She settled for a strong crushing of his fingers right as they got to their row. He yelped, throwing his head over his shoulder with a slightly dropped jaw.

"Are all Americans as…?" Ziva began to hiss through her teeth, giving herself a mental pat on the back for the pain she caused him.

He cut her off. "What? Smooth on their feet? Good looking? A woman's dream?"

She rolled her eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Absurd."

"Nah, they're not," he answered his own appeased assumptions. "You're just lucky, Ms. Da-vid."

* * *

It was a miracle that she had lasted 11 hours with him. For every explanation of the current film on the small screen in front of him, she added two more ways to kill him with the things in her proximity to her mental list. There were several points throughout his lectures – if you'd call them that – when her hand rose into a stressed fist before she lowered it again. _No, Ziva. _If she bashed his head in, there'd be too many questions and too much paperwork. She didn't have time for that, and she most certainly did not have time to explain why she attacked an American aboard a flight to her father. So she sunk back into her seat and waited for their plane to head for landing.

Tony was still talking, telling her about the expressionism of a scene when she reached over him to pull his window cover up. Her eyes sparkled as she looked down at the city they were descending into. Ziva had never been in Washington D.C. before and it was hardly a mesmerizing city compared to everywhere else she had traveled for work – Moscow, Singapore, Milan, etc. He couldn't help but smile and admire her fascination over the monuments. It was quite the experience to surprise Ziva and leave her speechless, he would later learn.

"How long are you in town for?" His question spoke volumes.

She remained close to him, her arm rubbing against his and her eyes focused on the view below them. It was no Israel, and for the first time in a very long time she was okay with that. Her eyes moved back to him and she took in the feeling of him breathing against her neck. "Until my work is finished," she whispered cryptically.

Following their quiet exchange, they did not speak again until the plane successfully landed on American soil and she took the silence in willingly. It was the first time he had stopped talking and she was sure after that length of time his voice was permanently imprinted in her brain. All future men would sound like him, all actors in future films she would watch would smile like him, and every dream that developed while she slept would be narrated by his continuous-need-for-validation voice.

The seatbelt sign in the cabin turned off and Ziva shifted up into a standing position to grab her carryon bag that had been resting above them. She pulled the bag over her shoulder and snuck one last glance at Tony before moving forward with the crowd that was self-ushering themselves off the plane. They would be parting ways at the gate – he was an American and she was not. The immigration line was calling her name, waiting for her to hand over her Israeli passport for verification and stamping.

Her footing started toward the line when she felt a grab at her elbow. She turned into him wearing an accomplished face after knowing her wild hair had just slapped him lightly across the face. "I have to ask," his voice was low and he leaned into her. His lips settled by her ear and she waited calmly. "Are you a spy? You're like Vesper Lynd and it's…" _Really hot._

"What is a Vesper?" Ziva countered. "This is not one of your action movies, Tony." Her arm pulled back to reveal she was holding his cell phone in her hand. She pursed her lips, entering her contact information into the device, before pushing the phone into his chest. "I am staying at the Oriental. Perhaps my work schedule will permit a night off."

She was gone by the time he looked up.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: Peace, by A.O.R.**

**Please enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated.**

**Dina**


	2. Chapter 2

**I went away for months until our paths crossed again**

**She told me I was never looking for a friend**

**Maybe you could swing by my room around 10**

**Baby bring a lemon and a bottle of gin**

**We'll be in between the sheets 'til the late A.M…**

The cool D.C. air hit his face as the automatic doors of Dulles airport slid open. Tony took a quick look around at the curbside cars, scanning for his fraternity brother who had owed him a favor. The two were the closest in their organization during their Ohio State years and kept in touch post their undergraduate experiences. The times, however, stayed quite similar for the two and many of their other 'brothers'. A group of them stayed in the Virginia area so there was always the occasional Friday night get together at their favorite bar to dish on their latest conquests or try to score at the scene if chance permitted.

A dark blue BMW pulled up to the curb and a smile of confirmation from Tony meant Brad had arrived. He put his vehicle into park, flashing his emergency lights, and ran over to greet the Italian. "Hey, man." Tony gave him a light pat on the back. "Thanks for coming for me. I know it's a little ways away for you." Brad had an apartment in Virginia but he and Tony saw each other regularly.

Brad shrugged in response, taking Tony's bag and tossing it in the backseat for him. "Rachel and I broke up a couple days ago, so I thought I might as well come get you instead of spending alone time _alone _in my apartment. And anyway, I wanted to hear about all the beautiful women you got paid to see, Mr. Federal Agent."

A click and he was all set. Tony leaned back to let his legs stretch out and rest. He was never a fan of flying economy, but what could you do on a bureaucratic budget. It was better than flying in a military plane, after all. He took what he could get. "You know the French," he gave a cheeky grin. "They were very welcoming and some of them even stayed the night."

"You dog," Brad laughed as his fingers tapped the steering wheel to the low-volumed beat coming from the radio. "France doesn't know what hit 'em."

Tony let out an amused sigh and looked out the window. It was a nice little road trip from Dulles into the metropolitan city of D.C. and he took in the view. It was no France, but it was what he called home now. His mind recounted his and Ziva's little encounter in the restroom – his doing, of course – and his lips turned upwards to showcase a bright smile.

"Alright, DiNozzo – stop daydreaming about Tuesday's call girl."

He waved his hand in Brad's face, making a mocking sound as he went. "Woah, woah, woah," he took a pause. "A call girl? You know I'm classier than that. Besides, I'm not thinking about a Paris fling. There was this girl on my flight. I mean, initially she bumped into me at the terminal and I thought nothing of it but she ended up sitting next to my window seat." There was so much enthusiasm in his voice that Brad didn't stop him to make another side joke on his behalf. He gave his college buddy a once over, egging him on to continue.

"There was just something about her, you know? I was on an 11-hour flight next to the woman and I don't even know the first thing about her. When she went down to the lavatory, I snuck a peak through her stuff." That got him an eyebrow raise. "Just level with me, alright."

Brad was used to the Italian's long spiels, so he just nodded and took the next left off the freeway. "So, I went through her stuff," Tony continued on. "She had so many boarding passes; no one takes that many connecting flights –"

"You gonna castrate the girl because she has one too many boarding passes? Maybe she likes to travel," he offered.

"I found an army knife at the bottom of her bag. How the hell did she get that through security? She was flying from Moscow; maybe she's a KGB spy. I can't believe I locked myself in with a KGB operative in the bathroom. That's probably treason on some level. And there's definitely not enough space in there for two people. She had to lean over the sink with her arm around my neck, and her back was all arched…" he ranted.

"Wait – what?" Brad begged as his foot hit the break in front of the red light. "You got her in the bathroom? Yeah, buddy! Welcome to the mile high club," he said with a quick pat to his shoulder.

Tony DiNozzo crossed his arms over his chest and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Her hair smelled like hazelnuts. Ziva. Her name was Ziva." His fingers began tapping against his bicep as he thought about her. His nose naturally inhaled and attempted to remember the smell.

"That sounds exotic."

"She said she was Israeli and then," he gave him a dry laugh, "She gave me her number when we got off the plane. Said she was staying at the Oriental."

Brad shook his head. It was the most he could ever do with Tony and his elaborate stories and situations that he always got himself into. He brought the car to a comfortable stop in front of his building, parking it and turning off the engine. "She sounds like a fire cracker. She's either going to give you the night of your life or kill you once you show up at her hotel because you blew her KGB cover." He couldn't help but tease the man, hitting his arm lightly with a fist. "I can't wait to hear all about it. We're still meeting up Friday night for drinks, right?" Tony nodded before leaning into the back seat and grabbing his stuff. "I'll ask you for the progress report then."

Tony knew their teasing lingo. He slammed the passenger door closed and came around to the driver's side, leaning into Brad's rolled down window. "You'll need a cold shower after, buddy." He tapped the car door once and stepped aside to let Brad ease out of the parking space.

"I always do with your stories, DiNozzo. Save some for the rest of us, will you?" Brad's words died out as he sped away, the usual smirk on his face.

* * *

The elevator doors of the Oriental opened, exposing the Israeli to the 8th floor of the hotel grounds. She excused herself past a couple of registered guests and headed down the hall to her room. The room key felt cool against her fingers – she toyed with it the further down the hall she got before finding her assigned quarters.

Click.

A small smile appeared on her face as the lock granted her access. Her arm slowly pushed the door open, her eyes scanning the area. She learned early on to never underestimate her father. He had, after all, been the one to accommodate her stay in the city. Fishing for her knife in her duffle bag, Ziva finally decided to step into her room. She was ready for anything, especially with her lucky knife in hand. A harsh hand sent her against the adjacent wall and she was ready to pounce. But then came his short laugh, "Ari." She breathed, her eyes narrowing on her half-brother like a lioness ready to pounce on her prey. It was their usual exchange – his softhearted play with violence and her unrelenting reactions. Ari often wondered how she never had problems with her eyes after all her stressed narrowing.

"Shalom, Ziva." He moved away from her and toward the small coffee table in the suite. His hot cup of tea was resting on a coaster alongside a scone. "I have been waiting for you." His younger sister crossed his path, grabbing the scone before he had a chance and taking a bite. Ari smirked over his tea as she leaned over to give his cheek a stuffed mouth kiss.

"Todah," she thanked – more for the scone than his presence. When he scooted the second cup filled with hot beverage toward her, she dropped her carry on at the foot of the chair and really looked at him. "You look well. Alive. I do not know why father requested I be here." Ziva pushed herself away from the sibling-led feast at the coffee table and walked toward the nightstand, taking it apart piece by piece and throwing it onto the bed. The backs revealed several taped files, which seemed to be what she was looking for. Dossiers.

"How was your flight?" He asked her, pushing himself into a chair.

They listened to the sound of the tape ripping before she gave him an answer. "Which one?" Ziva didn't look at him. It was clear she was sick of airports. She wanted just one week at home – to stare into the never ending Tel Aviv beach waters and feel the burn of the hot Israeli sun and sand against her toes. "Flights are life alteringly long when you are forced to sit beside a movie obsessed American who gets off to the sound of his own voice." She willingly shared and watched as Ari genuinely laughed. She had not seen him laugh in a long time. His eyes, much like hers, were usually dark and her heart warmed at every chance she got to see him alive.

"You did not kill him." It was a statement.

"I did not kill him," she confirmed. With one leg under her, she took a seat on the bed. Her eyes scanned the files before she found a familiar name. "Too many witnesses," Ziva added almost breathless.

What were the chances that her father knew Tony DiNozzo would have been on the same flight? Let alone, that he'd strategically planned for her to sit beside him on the flight for too many hours. She told herself that stranger things had happened and closed her acquaintance's file as if on cue. "You must be tired," she heard Ari say as he stood to his feet. "I will be in touch."

Ziva nodded and silently walked him to the door. Ari stopped at doorframe and turned to take one last look at her. She was surprised when he raised his fingers to move her hair out of her face and offer a comforting touch. "Laila tov," they said in unison and she watched him turn the doorknob that exposed the staircase and allow him his exit.

* * *

Tony didn't need to be back in the office until the next morning so after a quick shower he couldn't help but fight himself internally on the right time to contact her. Was there even a right time to contact an _assumed_ spy? He settled for a text, short and sweet.

It was raining out and he wasn't Tony DiNozzo if he wasn't curious.

Tony DiNozzo (8:42 P.M.): How are the accommodations?

She was hesitant. He was now an official assignment.

Ziva David (8:44 P.M.): Are you planning a visit, Tony?

Tony DiNozzo (8:44 P.M.): I come bearing coffee. See you at the lobby in a few.

They'd paint the town red that night. Or a shade of brown, depending on the color scheme of their caffeinated beverages.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: Don't, by Ed Sheeran.**

**This is shorter than I would've liked, but I do hope you enjoy. ****Penny for your thoughts?**

**Dina**


	3. Chapter 3

**You have my heart but I lock it up**

**This burning flame has been burnt enough**

**My window's cracked they can be replaced**

**But your arm will tire throwing stones my way**

**You use your words as a weapon dear**

**But your blades don't hurt when you have no fear**

**You think that you're deep under my skin**

**You're trying to keep me suffering**

**If you use your words as a weapon**

**Then as a weapon, I'll shed no tears…**

Ziva somewhat regretted once she had accepted. Her thoughts immediately ran to her father and his disapproving face as she accepted a social call – not a fraternization with the enemy. Pushing her phone into her pocket, she adjusted the collar on her military green shirt and bent over to secure her knife at her ankle. She wasn't going to go anywhere without that, especially now that she had DiNozzo's dossier on her bed. She disregarded the time and sat back to study the file, her eyes flickering over the information.

He was an only child, raised in upstate New York. Italian bred. Rich family, but joined the police academy instead of following in his father's business footsteps after the many boarding schools he attended. He was in his prime at Baltimore PD until he made the transfer to NCIS several years ago and had been a loyal St. Bernard to one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Ziva underlined that, his weakness. Another weakness was of the female persuasion. She smirked at that, but she didn't need a file to tell her that. Even a half hour flight would've enlightened her on his extreme interest in the opposite sex.

Naturally though, she didn't worry about his interest in her life. There was no way that she'd been compromised from the few questions he did ask. She wasn't a spy. Contracted killer? Assassin bred from the age of 6? Sure. Pushing off the bed, she pulled half of her hair up, styling it in some sort before grabbing her room card and sliding it into her other pocket. Her phone vibrated, indicating that the coffee had arrived. She had to give it to him – he was quick.

Entering the lobby, Ziva spotted him immediately. He was more casually dressed, some jeans and an Ohio State sweatshirt keeping him warm from the change of weather outside. Their two coffees were sitting at the table beside him and he was clicking away at a game on his screen. Her footsteps silent, she peaked over his shoulder with an entertained expression. "You are not very good."

Tony jumped in his seat, startled. His hazel eyes shot up into hers and he clicked the phone shut. "Aren't you a dazzler of compliments." He pushed her coffee cup toward her as she took a seat opposite him, crossing her legs and setting a free hand in her lap.

"Todah," the word came effortlessly.

"Prego."

Ziva set the coffee down slowly and inched her chair toward him. It was a little different now, her ninja brain was on and she couldn't help but read into each of his words and movements and strategize. "Are you experiencing separation anxiety already? We were just confined to an 11 hour flight together."

He dryly laughed at how easy it was for her to bring down his ego, one he wasn't even actively using at the moment. "The city's a big place for a foreigner," Tony shrugged. "I wanted you to have a good first visitor."

"You are my second visitor, Tony."

His eyes rose quickly over his coffee cup. "Second, huh? You work fast. Did they bring you coffee too?"

"Tea," she answered honestly. It was one of the few honest details she had given him since they met over 15 hours ago. "And a scone was involved." Her eyes glistened in the dark D.C. night as she stared at him, curious at his response.

He folded his hands in front of her, coffee cup standing in the middle. "If I would've known, I would've brought food for the lady." There was that charming smile again, which he prided himself on. It usually got him any girl at the bar without trying. He was, however, certain that his tactics wouldn't go a long way with a woman like her. Like he told Brad on his way back to the airport, she was _different. _"I could have a pizza delivered here in 15 minutes tops, we could – "

"I do not think so." _Right, not that easy. _"But I do admire your aim to always please." Ziva's response had so many meanings and he was unrelentingly hopeful that she'd invite him up – after all, she was a girl alone in the city. All he was doing was providing his American services to a traveling woman. She stood with coffee in hand, her face neutral.

Tony leaned back in his chair; it wasn't all too comfortable but he'd take it. Taking in her appearance, he couldn't help but stand. His hand cautiously came up to the small of her back as he whispered. "C'mon. What's that guy have that I don't got?" He was playing with her, a game he knew well.

"I enjoy tall men," Ziva gave up. With a small roll of her head to the side, she placed the now empty cup that he had originally supplied atop his. She patted his cheek lightly, teasingly and headed back toward the elevator.

Not to her surprise – but surely to amusement – he was still standing in the lobby when she turned around in the small space. She heard him shout, "I'm "6'1", by the way!" He watched her laugh as she pressed a button.

Tony turned toward the lobby doors and pulled out his phone as he went. He could hear the pouring rain outside and stopped just short of the roof's edge to keep him dry. He couldn't help but send Brad a quick message about his hookup failure.

Tony DiNozzo (10:01 P.M.): I was her second visitor. No access granted.

Brad Morrow (10:02 P.M.): Must be a looker. Or she killed the guy; since you know she's KGB and all.

Tony DiNozzo (10:02 P.M.): Humor me.

* * *

A video call was waiting for her when she got back to her suite. Ziva pushed the door shut and threw the room key aside as she took a seat at the coffee table. The time change was slightly weighing on her, but she knew she couldn't ignore the call. Pulling her hair out of its hold, she pressed 'ACCEPT' and tapped her fingers against the computer's keyboard until she heard the successful connection. She sat for a good minute or two before her father noticed she had been waiting. Noting he was busy with paperwork, she didn't bother and waited out the silence. He'd realize eventually – he always did – even if it was past her control of frustration. He was not only her father, but also her superior, after all. "Shalom, Ziva," she heard him say.

Her eyes naturally lit up, accepting the acknowledgement. There was very little of that, and ever since Tali had died their family dynamic was never the same again. "Abba."

"I assume you found the dossiers." He watched her nod. "Ari has had much contact with these people. I expect you to watch his back, mend any issues that may arise."

She slouched in her seat, pulling her arms over her chest and listening. "I always do – I am his control office, after all." A pause. "What is your mission here?" Ziva questioned forcefully. It had been eating away at her since she saw the files; had he thrown her to the wolves on that plane? Since she began with Mossad, she had never questioned her father's motives, his loyalty to her. But Tali was the best of them, and she was gone – Ziva carried the weight of her death on her shoulders every day and eventually began to wonder what it would've been like under different circumstances. Nonetheless, every death was for Tali. Every shot, every interrogation was for her.

Eli leaned closer into the camera. For a second, Ziva felt as though he was actually looking at her, _his daughter_. She had trained for her father's approval for so long that it was uncomfortable to have him look at her like that – even if it was over a computer screen. "You look so much like – " Her face turned, eyes burning.

"Do not speak of her," Ziva raised her hand to stop him. She swallowed hard and lowered her pained brown eyes, shifting.

"Make sure that Ari is safe. The Americans are unpredictable." They were his last words before he disconnected. She shut her laptop angrily then, throwing her button down top across the room. She settled for that, as punching a wall or door in would raise unnecessary questions and problems for her. She didn't need any more strikes on her Mossad record. Always being aboard a flight had almost made her forget how much anger her father caused her. It was always mission first. Ari first. Ziva was his warrior – his sharp end of the spear – and he used her wisely for business. A moment later she composed herself, knowing the work that lied ahead. She'd be ready.

After cleaning her weapon meticulously, she placed it under her pillow and lowered herself in-between the sheets. The east coast wind hit harshly against the suite's closed windows, but she slept soundly. Ironically, Ziva slept better in the middle of the noise than the peaceful silence.

* * *

The following morning, team Gibbs was met with a classic DiNozzo smile and strut. He moved into the bullpen, throwing his backpack into his seat and glancing from Kate to McGee. Both didn't show much eagerness for his return as it had been quiet – some would say _peaceful_ – since he had left for Europe. "Good morning, Tony." McGee broke first.

"Morning, McProbie. Did you miss me?" Tony questioned, leaning on the cabinets that separated the two agents' workspaces.

Kate, buried in files on files, rolled her eyes before acknowledging his presence. "It's too early to feed Tony's ego, McGee. He hasn't been gone lone enough." She smiled innocently at the Italian before taking a short break with a lean back. "Bring back any diseases from your French cuddle buddies, DiNozzo?"

He let her have her moment, smiling silently. His eyes lit up momentarily and he eagerly approached her desk next. "Actually, Kate. There was this girl on the plane and I had her in the – " He straightened up, watching as the silver fox approached them. "Good morning, boss."

"Hope you washed your hands, DiNozzo," was his return as he went for his gun and badge. "Grab your gear." He didn't wait for them as he moved, but it was the universal sign for them to follow. He was fast on his feet for – well, for Gibbs – and the others only had a couple of seconds to grab their necessities and follow suit into the elevator behind the team leader.

McGee came shuffling in last, a backpack over his shoulder and his badge in his hand. "Wait," he said as they all made it into the small elevator. The doors began to close when he added in a whisper, "Where'd you have her?" The question caused a sickened sigh from Kate and an enthusiastic laugh from Tony.

A glance from Gibbs sent chills down Tony's spine. He had forgotten about those, but at least it wasn't a head slap. He valued his accumulated brain cells while he still had them. "Shutting up, boss," the two younger agents whispered and averted their eyes to the floor.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: Words as Weapons, by BIRDY.**

**I am dominantly a Ziva writer, but I hope I am doing the others justice.**

**I've been on an update spree, so please enjoy while it lasts. As always, penny for your thoughts?**

**Dina**


	4. Chapter 4

**I told her my name and said, "It's nice to meet ya."**

**And then she handed me a bottle of water filled with tequila.**

**I already know she's a keeper**

**Just from this one small act of kindness I'm in deep**

**If anybody finds out…**

It took them about two days to close in on their case concerning a navy officer found at the harbor. All jokes aside, it was a brutal murder and each member of team Gibbs hadn't slept in close to the 48 hours they had devoted to finding justice for the man. Tony always had a rule when it came to cases like these – it was always the wife, or the girlfriend. Either or. He received several eye rolls and grunts over the course of the investigation for his assumption, but in the end he had been right. The girlfriend, a recent graduate from Georgetown, had manipulated and pressured a married man she had been having an ongoing affair with to take the naval office out of the picture so she could marvel in the wealth.

The two younger NCIS agents went sent to retrieve the male suspect, and Tony couldn't help but wear his classic grin. Not only had he been right about the case, but tonight was Friday and he couldn't wait to go out drinking with the guys. Communication with Ziva faltered after their 'coffee date', if he was to call it that, and he was excited to see what this week's night out would bring in the female department. Their favorite bar was always a touch down with the ladies so naturally it became the fraternity brothers' favorite place to drink up and pick up. "C'mon – admit it, Probie," DiNozzo egged on. "I was right."

McGee could only roll his eyes as he looked out the passenger window. "You just got lucky, alright?" He tried to get off topic, knowing they had made a bet earlier in the week that if Tony had been right McGee would do his paperwork for the upcoming week. And with Tony's recent France trip, that work had been growing mighty high while he was chasing the ladies around Paris. "And you can't always depend on the same outcome. Don't put all your eggs in one basket, DiNozzo."

He laughed in turn and glanced over at him. "First of all, I might have gotten lucky with this, but I am most certainly getting luckier tonight. Hitting the favorite bar tonight with the guys and you know what that means!" Tony explained in a higher octave. "And what do you know about putting eggs in baskets anyway, McHater? I don't think your eggs have been in any baskets lately." He smiled at his own innuendo, proud.

"You're disgusting, DiNozzo." Tony had heard that so much throughout his NCIS career that he was almost immune to it. Almost. He swerved the car in front of an office building on the South East part of town and got out without waiting for the probationary agent to follow. He could hear him following close behind and took the opportunity to give him a 'sign of affection' right at the back of the head. "Hey! What was that for?"

"For killing my buzz," Tony retorted. He was about to continue when his ringtone made an appearance, stopping them both in their tracks. "Brad! Hey, man." It was almost like Tony's voice got a couple years younger. McGee was almost expecting a 'bro' in there somewhere and talk about how many kegs they were going to invest in. He spoke with his eyes glued to the ground, his nice Italian shoes picking at something in the pavement. "No, I haven't talked to her…no, she didn't invite me up…"

"You going soft, DiNozzo?" Brad laughed into the phone. "You brought the girl coffee to her hotel for Christ's sake." McGee smirked at that; at least he could relish in one of Tony's downfalls. There was at least one woman in the world that DiNozzo couldn't break into falling for him and keeping him entertained at night.

Tony laughed him off, remembering Ziva's mention of a previous visitor at her hotel room before his own arrival. "Look, you know I rocked her world in the bathr – "

"Oh, c'mon!" McGee yelled, knocking his elbow violently with his. "Let's go, we have to get Mr. Cressport to the office before your escapades." He listened to his partner say he'd see Brad at the bar in about an hour before shutting his phone. "You are unbelievable…" McGee continued forward into the lobby. They flashed their badges to the front desk receptionist before easily retrieving the suspect. It was not always that simple, but for a momentous night like today was going to be Tony DiNozzo couldn't be any more appreciative for such an outcome.

"Who says escapades anymore?" He questioned the younger officer as they both led their prime suspect out in handcuffs to their vehicle. "It's like you live in the '60s."

* * *

After getting Cressport situated in the interrogation room, Tony came gallivanting through the bullpen to find the rest of his team. "He's ready for you, Boss," Tony informed. He leaned over to his desk to grab his jacket and things before saying good night to his fellow employees, all of which were still busy finishing up their workday at their desks.

"Don't you have some reports to finish, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked without looking at him. He took a sip of his coffee and waited for his answer while Kate eyed the two of them. She was always up for a Tony-Gibbs dance at the end of the day. Gibbs had all the questions and Tony none of the answers – none of the work either sometimes.

This time Tony was victorious. He turned to his boss as he suited up, "No, McGee's got it covered. Probie and I had a little wager going and I won." He turned to McGee, who was not too pleased with the outcome of their little arrangement. "Don't do too good of a job – you know, they'll expect it from me next time."

"And where are you off to, Tony?" Kate rose from her desk to hand Gibbs one of her finished reports. She stayed put between the desks, arms crossed and awaiting a confession.

"Alpha Chi Delta reunion in Dupont Circle tonight," he stated proudly. "You should come by. I'm sure Matt would be happy to see you." He smiled innocently at her. "Again."

Silence filled the room as Kate's eyes met Tony's. "DiNozzo!" She yelled in her typical of ways as he quickly grabbed his things to get a move on it. He was so close to the elevator doors for his escape when Gibbs gathered their attention. The elevator dinged and Tony fought the challenge of whether or not to move into the metal box. His feet inched forward, but he still turned around to face his superior reluctantly.

"I got a private call today from Ari Haswari," he said calmly. "Must be in town again – watch your backs." When they all nodded at him, he nudged his head off to the side indicating their release.

"See you tomorrow, Boss."

"Good night, Gibbs." His wholehearted army bid a due.

* * *

Ziva's hands ran through her wet curls, feeling the sting of her shampoo creep into her eyes as she stood under a hot stream coming from the shower head. She hissed, raising an arm to brush the soapy liquid away. Noting that the stinging sensation grew, she pushed her face under the water instead. Ziva felt enough relief to open her eyes and rinse the rest of her hair out before turning off the shower. The room was steamy and warm; she took comfort in that and smiled to herself. Her towel was still hanging where she had left it and she took the time to dry herself off and gather her wild locks in a towel of a smaller size.

Her hand just about reached to wipe the moisture off the mirror when she heard movement in the bedroom of the suite. Ziva left the mirror as it was and reached for the door handle – her other hand preoccupied with her weapon. The door shifted open to expose Ari situated comfortably on her made bed. She shifted her jaw, staring at him for a minute before responding. Her gun lowered to the nightstand beside her. "Our family does not understand the concept of knocking." She took a pause. "I could have killed you," Ziva adds honestly.

"Do you always shower with your weapon?" He asked with a tilt of his head. He was harsh with everyone else in his life but Ziva. She was his sister, the only one he had left. She growled in response and took a seat across from him on the bed. A few drops of water ran down her legs and sank into the carpet. Her eyes watched them snail down carefully while she figured out what he was doing in her hotel room.

She opened her mouth then closed it. A second later, her lips parted again. "I spoke to Eli." Ziva received a raise of the eyebrow from her sibling. She usually had no problem following his orders through all the years she had been committed to Mossad that now he noticed something new. There was something in the way she said his name. Distraught for an unexplained reason.

"How is he? I have not spoken to him in weeks." He was not genuine. Ziva was not oblivious to their broken relationship, one she had often attempted to mend. That was difficult, however, with Ari always sent on assignment and her sent into the opposite direction of the globe.

"Is that why I am here?" She questioned. She licked her lips before proceeding, tightening her towel around her small frame. "He told me I was your fixer – what are you planning to –"

"Nothing."

"Then why –" She pressed. He waved her off. "You know as well as I do that there will be trouble if you mess up on American soil." He grabbed her face then, noting her concern. "I cannot lose you too," she managed just above a whisper. Before emotion overtook her, she pulled away from his hold to grab a change of clothes.

"Nothing will happen, Ziva." She listened to him assure her as she made her way back into the bathroom and closed the door half way. She changed while she listened to his updates, trying to decipher whether there was something he was hiding. "Are you going somewhere?" Ari inquired suddenly.

Ziva came back into the room to meet his gaze, her hands busy between the towel and her hair. "I thought I would go get a drink." Her face squirmed slightly as loose stands slapped her face. "I am tired of being caged up in this hotel."

Ari offered a knowing shrug, "I believe the term is 'cooped up'."

Ziva awarded him with a stare of utter confusion, considering his correction. "You have been in America too long," she lightly muttered before adjusting the top that loosely rested atop her olive skin. "I will be fine."

"I know," Ari agreed. "I owe someone a visit tonight, but I will keep an eye on you – bars can be dangerous."

Ziva was amused but did not argue with him. "I will not be taking anyone home," she assured. Sometimes it was nice to feel as though someone actually cared about her wellbeing.

* * *

Despite the fact that it had just rained the night before, the air she breathed in now was too humid for her liking. Her hair quickly went from soaking to damp as she continued on her walk to find the proper place to settle for a drink – or two, or more. Ziva's stroll continued past a beautiful fountain that was overflowing water due to recent weather. It brought her peace somehow so she paused there before continuing on her alcoholic beverage search. There were plenty of options as she moved deeper into Dupont Circle but one joint caught her eye. It wasn't too small and there were enough people inside so as to not claim it 'overcrowded'.

Her boots kicked a few rocks along the way before she got to the entrance. Ziva easily slid past the outgoing customers, some struggling to stand or hold conversations with their companions. She naturally judged their character and pulled herself through to the bar seating. Climbing a top, she caught the eye of the waiter and politely asked for a mojito. He eyed her curiously, indicating he was doubting her age.

Ziva was able to explain to him that not many people lived past her age in Israel, considering they were either killed or sent to the Israeli Defense Forces at a young age but decided against it. Her fingers pulled her ID out of her back pocket and slid it over the counter. "I am of age; I assure you."

"Mojito coming up," he confirmed as she lightly kicked her boots against the stool.

She quickly noted how different Americans and Israeli culture was in regard to bars and clubbing. The majority of the people around her were all dolled up, heels and all. The men were dressed their best to try to impress too. It confused her greatly, but she gave it the benefit of a doubt. Maybe it was some American holiday that she had not realized. In Israel, drinking and clubbing was a very casual experience. No one dolled themselves up in heels, makeup and short dresses to have a good time. They wore jeans or shorts and flat shoes and danced until the sun came up over Tel Aviv the next morning. Ziva followed suit with the latter. She was sitting comfortably in a pair of jeans and a silky top supported by straps on her shoulders covered by a short military jacket. Her hair was dark and wild as always, much like her; and her face naturally olive and barely covered in foundation.

Ziva's fingers grasped at her first drink as Tony's fraternity buddies started shuffling in. It was a group of five of them, and DiNozzo always made six. They were still waiting on him so they eagerly took the opportunity to order as much food as their table space could allow alongside a round of beers for the entire group. Matt, the black haired one, took initiative and went up to the bar for faster service. He glanced over at the Middle Eastern beauty sitting alone, scrolling past items on her phone. Her curls were attacking her face, but he was sure she was gorgeous without even seeing her. "Can I buy you a drink?" He offered politely.

His buddies had already spotted him, waiting to either congratulate on his success or make fun of him for falling through on the first girl of the night. Her brown eyes settled on his and she offered him a faint smile, not interested. Ziva gently waved her half-empty glass, "I have one. Thank you for your offer, though." She didn't wait for his second attempt and went back to sipping her drink slowly. Matt's footsteps faded into the distance eventually and he rejoined the gang with a loud sigh.

Their food had arrived and the guys began to feast on it while simultaneously giving Matt a hard time for his strike out. "DiNozzo's missing out on all the best," Brad said between a bite of his spicy chicken wings. "Matt strikes out and all this food. It's not his week."

As if on cue, the senior NCIS agent entered the bar scouting the area for his buddies. He jogged over with an enthusiastic fraternity serenade to which all five men responded and engaged in handshakes and manly hugs. "About time you showed up," Brad smirked at him with a pass of a few appetizers. "You already missed out on Matt's strike out."

"What?" Tony asked with a glance at Matt, almost appalled. "You're the one with the most game out of all of us, and I'm only admitting that to you because you're my brother. Tell anyone and I'll kill you," he laughed as he brought his ice-cold beer to his lips for a sip.

"Tony," Brad started. "That girl over there," he pointed over at Ziva. She was still sitting on the same stool, two empty mojito glasses beside her. They were colored with lemon and mint at the bottom while the third drink was in the middle of meeting her lips. Tony nodded slowly, obviously liking what he was seeing. She was – of course – his type and he couldn't turn down a dare from his best buddy.

"Her, huh?" He stood leaning against their table and watching her. She made no sudden movements, her focus elsewhere. Her hair was still framing her features out of view and he couldn't help but be intrigued at the challenge.

"She didn't even give Matt a chance," he laughed. "I haven't seen a girl like that in here for a long time." Tony nodded again and left to approach her without a further word. He needed to bounce back after the week he'd had and his hotel let down, so this was the right girl to do it. Bonus points if he pulled a girl Matt couldn't – that would be one for the record books.

Ziva didn't shift, though she felt another body beside her. He took a seat quietly and for a second she thought she got off easy. She slurped the remaining liquid from her glass before setting it down to accompany the group of empty ones. "Hitting the mojitos a little hard, aren't you?" He questioned. "Though I'm not judging."

She licked her lips, tasting the mint on them before gifting him with a response. "Sometimes you just need a good drink." Her voice was quiet, almost hushed. He had a hard time hearing her over the music but his ears made it out. Those investigative skills were right at work, helping him pick up the ladies on a cool Friday night. "Or three," her hand waved to showcase her collection.

"In that case – next round's on me," he flashed her a charming smile that he thought she'd fail to see. His fraternity boys held their breath when they watched him put his secret weapon in play.

"No way," Matt groaned.

Brad smiled triumphantly; as if it was his own win. He gave his neighboring brother a high five and watched on. "If anyone can do it, it's DiNozzo. Did he tell you about the airplane girl? Anthony DiNozzo Jr. is officially a part of the Mile High Club, gentlemen," he announced.

Ziva contemplated his gesture, considering not breaking two hearts in one night. She set her phone onto the bar and finally turned her head to face him, curious about whom this guy was. "Tony," her eyes slightly grew.

"Ziva?" He laughed a little too hysterically. "This is so 'Boy Meets Girl'," he laughed again. "Well, minus the S&M. You're not going to torture me in your basement, are you?"

She tried to roll her eyes at him, but all they managed was a terrific look of shock. "Were you given electrotherapy as a child and forced to watch nonstop movie features?"

Tony smiled at her, sweetly. It surprised him how much he actually came to miss her lack of knowledge of the film industry and feisty personality. "Maybe. My childhood gets a little blurry sometimes. Too many moves and too many different step-mothers." He took the opportunity of silence to grab the Israeli another drink. Ziva accepted hesitantly, looking from him to the drink, and brought the fourth minty cocktail to her lips. The Italian only smiled, sneaking a wink to his patiently watching brothers in victory.

* * *

In the meantime, Ari Haswari made his way down a street on the North Western part of D.C. to make a coffee date with Gibbs. He was going to be seeing a _friend_ that night, just as he had promised Ziva.

* * *

**A/N: **

**LYRICS: Sing, by Ed Sheeran.**

**I am trying to line up the Ari/Kate death storyline as best I can, but I won't be exploring the actual event in great detail. I've been writing this piece with focusing on the 'before' and the 'after' in mind. I also love writing these Ari/Ziva scenes - I'm all for humanizing and exploring their relationship as much as I can. The David family is probably my favorite dynamic.**

**Also: I appreciate everyone's reviews to an extent that words cannot express. I haven't written anything in numerous years and this is actually my first-ever published work that I'm sharing on the internet. So, thank you so much for all of your kind words in regard to my writing and my portrayal of Ziva. It is something that is so important to me - though maybe foolishly. But I very much resonated with the character and I miss her dearly.**

**Anyway - enjoy, speculate and review! :)**

**Dina**


	5. Chapter 5

**You're all I see in all these places**

**You're all I see in all these faces**

**So let's pretend we're running out of time, of time…**

"Thanks," Ziva was short but happily went to work on her fourth drink. "What are you drinking? The least I can do is return the favor." She made him the offer with a small shrug of the shoulders, one strap sliding a few centimeters off her shoulders and down her naturally tan skin. She watched him slide off his stool and lean closer to her. Her breath caught just as it had when he 'trapped' her in the plane lavatory. Fighting the urge to turn into him, Ziva averted her eyes and dryly laughed. It was harder to avoid his flirtatious tactics when she wasn't sober.

He breathed in her freshly washed curls. Hazelnuts, just like he had remembered telling Brad about on his way back from the airport. "Couldn't let you do that. Besides, I still have a whole beer over there with the guys waiting for me," Tony pointed quickly to the group. "You want to join us? I promise they don't bite." He straightened up a bit, waiting for her reply. "Well – maybe Matt. I heard you turned him down," he added somewhat proudly for fulfilling his own challenge.

"I…I did," she answered honestly. It might have been one of the few things she had been honest with him about. He could see the wheels turning in her head; trying to make up her mind but little did he know about the real challenge. Ziiva wasn't sure how good of an idea this was. She had initially wanted to drink her pain away – her struggles with her father and reminiscing about Tali – and not expected to see someone she'd been investigating to offer her not only a drink but also some company. "Sure," she fought against her instinct and agreed.

The Italian pulled his biggest smile yet and waited for her to slide off her stool to walk her over. His fingers ran against the rough material of the jacket that covered her lower back and he practically counted his blessings for the coincidence that brought them together. Tony still didn't know a single significant thing about her and couldn't let her leave without figuring her out. "These are the guys," he introduced. "We went to Ohio State together a while back," Tony continued as he offered her a seat.

Ziva shook their hands and smiled pleasantly. She wasn't a 'people person' but she never had a problem with being around men. She was practically known for it. "It is nice to meet you – I hope you do not mind my intrusion. I'm Ziva." A few dry curls fell into her face and she brushed them away right as it hit Brad who exactly she was.

"Wait. _This_ is Ziva?" He eyed Tony suspiciously. "The one that – "

Tony kicked him under the table, sending him a glare. He never corrected his assumptions in the car about their little incident aboard the plane and this was not the time. "Uh, yeah – my plane buddy," he told him with a leading tone. Brad knew the look on his face so he let it go and covered his smirk with another sip of his beer. Ziva eyed the two of them suspiciously, but let it go and joined in on the drinking. The more alcohol she had, the better she was off. Maybe Tony was less of a movie buff when he was drunk. Her ears and patience would be most appreciative of that.

"So what do you do, Ziva?" Brad turned to her after finishing off their ordered portion of French fries. "Tony told me you were here on business. From Israel, right?"

Ziva finished her latest drink and granted him a nod, picking her words carefully. "Yes, I am in town indefinitely. Contract work," she explained with no further detail. She forgot how difficult it was to make up an entire identity on the spot when she was not expecting to run into anyone with serious questions. That, and she was intoxicated – she regretted it instantly.

"You didn't tell me that," Tony piped in. He couldn't help but stare at her. She was so close to him, her boots resting comfortably on the ledge under his stool. His legs kicked hers ever so often and they shared a few glances. Ziva's eyes glistened in the light as the night went on, drink after drink.

He swore he almost saw her give him a small grin, a rare sight. "You do not ask the right questions, Tony."

Brad watched the two of them. He could definitely see why Tony was so intrigued by her – if only after an 11-hour flight and a short coffee 'date'. She wasn't really letting him in and knowing Tony, he knew he couldn't and wouldn't leave well enough alone. There were small glimpses he could swear on his life that she was genuinely interest. She was just great at masking it and changing focus on other details. "I thought you were an investigator, DiNozzo," Brad teased him and Tony tensed. He didn't usually reveal details about his occupation to people he didn't know well. He also still had his suspicions about her despite the fact that he found her extremely attractive.

Ziva raised her eyebrows at him, innocently signaling that she had no idea. _Oh?_ Meanwhile, she probably knew he a lot better than his buddies from college knew him. If she was honest, his dossier was almost the thickest. It probably would have been if he were as old as Gibbs. Sometimes she found herself rolling her eyes at the things she found outlined in there – it was almost unbelievable.

She watched him clear his throat and run a hand through his hair. "Well, yeah…"

"Modesty is not your color, DiNozzo," a few of the guys interjected. They laughed off his bust and decided on grabbing a refill for the table – drinks and food both.

Once they had the table to themselves for a moment, Tony turned into her and she looked up. Her eyes were glassy but she was coherent enough to hold a conversation; she was swaying to the music and Tony couldn't help but chuckle as he watched a few strands of hair fall forward. Without much serious thought, his hand came up to brush her hair out of the way just like he had on the flight. "You always do that," she pointed out.

"It makes you smile." His reply was quiet and his fingers remained in her hair, taking in its texture. She leaned closer naturally, feeling his hand roaming within her curls. Though she did not admit it, it was the most relaxing thing she felt in a long time and Ziva was grateful to actually feel again. Her job – her missions – took so much out of her both physically and emotionally and she had not had the opportunity to just _be _with someone for a moment and take that in.

Ziva's head bobbed slightly and she opened her eyes to find him still staring at her with a classic DiNozzo grin. "I think I have probably had enough for the night," she attempted to convince herself.

"You're not so bad, Da-veed." They exchanged smirks, her fingers drumming to the beat of the music on his slacks. "You haven't puked and begun to proclaim your love for me yet."

"I would have to be a lot more intoxicated for that, Tony," she assured. A laugh erupted from her throat when he tried to signal a request for another mojito to the bartender from afar. "No."

"No?" He stifled a laugh, pushing more of her hair back. In any other circumstance – with any other person – she would have pulled herself together and put work first. But she was hurting over her usual challenges and decided a drunken night wouldn't hurt. It wouldn't mean anything and at least she'd get her mind off of the things she had been struggling to live with. She could be her father's warrior tomorrow. Her irrational decision pushed her toward him and her lips gladly met his. It was sudden and sloppy, but she did not want anything else in that precise moment. No number of mojitos could have made her feel the way he did when Tony pulled her into his arms to hold her. Her fingers tangled in his hair and Ziva let out a low moan.

Her swollen lips parted from his in quest of oxygen and her arms came to rest around his neck. "Tony." His lips came to hers again for a short, sweet peck. She smiled against him, but reached for the phone in her pocket. She had ignored its vibrations in their _moment _but she had to take a look. She was not in D.C to bloom an unexpected romance. She was Ari's control officer and it was her duty to protect him. "Excuse me," her arms dropped from their hold and she took a look at her incoming message.

Ari Haswari (1:07 A.M.): It is time for you to go.

Ziva glanced over Tony's shoulder to find Ari at the window. Pursing her lips, she played the situation off as naturally as possible but there was no going back. "Uh," she struggled to find the words. "I have to go, but thank you for…the company tonight." Her body slid off the stool quickly and she attempted to leave her share of the bill. Tony denied it and they struggled for a moment over the cash. It was his treat, he bartered.

"Get home safe, alright?" He received a nod and she headed toward the exit. In between watching her go and his brothers' enthusiastic exchanges about what they had just witnessed, he snuck one last glance toward her. There was just something strange about her swift exit. He saw her meet someone at the doorframe and exchange pleasantries before the man in the shadows pushed off the wall and joined her. Tony squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness outside. It was a barely lit street, but he could have sworn it was Ari Haswari.

* * *

They made it down a couple of blocks before Ari spoke up, "What the hell do you think you are doing?" Ziva let out a sigh in response, knowing it was coming. She really didn't feel up to having this conversation so late at night and after quite a few drinks that she knew she'd regret in the morning. It was her one night to herself and she didn't need her half-brother playing the authoritative role for once in her life. Where was he all the other times she actually needed him? All of their family problems, everything with Tali, and when Ziva went mission crazy after her sister's death. Where was he then?

The Israeli ran her fingers through her curls before stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "I had a drink," she told him simply. There was no way he really knew how many she had consumed – by herself, with Tony, and with his fraternity brothers.

Ari shook his head at her, nudging her lightly to test her balance. "One drink, huh?" Ziva lost her balance and went off to the left, stopping herself eventually and looking back at him. Her jaw clenched and she was back to his side in a matter of seconds, pushing him back with all she had considering her state of mind.

"Being your control officer does not stop me from having the occasional drink," she hissed quietly. They didn't need any attention drawn to them.

"Don't be stupid, Ziva," Ari returned as he continued walking toward the Oriental. He decided against putting his hands on her. Not that he hadn't done it before, but they were in public and there were more important things to discuss. For example, why had she made the dumb decision to throw herself at an American federal agent?

"How did your meet up go?" She changed the subject, knowing he was hinting at her – probably – illogical kiss with Tony at the bar.

"I got my point across," she heard him say. She blinked a couple of times and tried to steady herself before walking into the lobby of the Oriental. "You know that I always get my point across," he repeated. Ziva eyed him suspiciously once they were alone in the elevator. Her shoulder smacked into the closest wall and she closed her eyes for a moment of rest.

"He does not know who I am," Ziva said suddenly. The elevator doors opened and Ari pulled her along. He said nothing, not wanting to reopen that can of worms. She struggled to walk and took a hold of his arm, regretting all of her decisions thus far already. "I miss her," she admitted in barely a whisper.

* * *

**A/N: **

**LYRICS: Neon Lights, by Demi Lovato.**

**So, this was truly frustrating to write but I hope it turned out well. I think my brain is a little fried from writing so much in such a short amount of time. Regardless, I hope I'm keeping true to the integrity of the characters and presenting them in a proper light. Ziva was wild circa season 3 and prior so I tried to be as realistic as possible with her struggles and decisions.**

**Anyway, please enjoy and review. Your positive feedback always puts a smile on my face. **

**Dina**


	6. Chapter 6

**Oh, you can´t hear me cry**

**See my dreams all die**

**From where you´re standing**

**On your own**

**It´s so quiet here**

**And I feel so cold…**

By the time that the Israeli had made it comfortably to her bed, Tony and Brad called it quits at the bar and headed on their way out after a long, 'fratty' goodbye with the rest of the group. Brad had a long way to go to Virginia at that late hour so he and Tony planned for his overnight visit ahead of time. Rachel left him less than a week ago and there was nothing to go back to too. It was better for him to deal with that in a sober manner than with several drunken calls that he'd regret as soon as his eyes opened the next day. The two men took their time with their late night walk, deciding against the metro system. It was nice and cool by then and they wanted to take advantage of it while they reminisced over their favorite collegiate moments – the all-nighters, the overdrinking in the doors, and the _female _all-nights that they were still proud of to this day. Their bachelor degrees almost paled in comparison. Almost.

"I liked Ziva," Brad said with a cool smile as they turned on K Streeet, NW. "And not because she turned Matt down in probably negative 7 seconds of him trying." He smirked just thinking about it as he let out a small yawn. He looked over at his best bud who had been silent most of the way. So many thoughts were going through his mind, so many assumptions of what he did or didn't see, that he didn't realize Brad was even talking. "Tony?"

The Italian blinked at the mention f his name. "Yeah, yeah. Ziva's something else…"

Brad tilted his head in response. "Is that…a good or bad thing? Because I thought you'd be bouncing off the walls and doing a "Dancing in the Rain" number on your walk home after that kiss. That was some kiss." He nudged him in approval as they continued on their way to Tony's building.

"She just left so suddenly, you know? And when I looked over I could've sworn I saw someone I recognized. This guy," he paused. "This guy we've been after at work. NCIS has been after him for a while and I know he just resurfaced in the area." Tony shook his head, rubbing his temples as he thought about it. There was just no way. He clearly had one too many beers. He'd regret that tomorrow. He'd also regret it the next time they had a training session at FLETC in a couple of months at the rate he was going. On top of his drinking, he ate so much food that he'd probably be sick to his stomach if he thought about it too much. But how could he have turned down all the delicacies? They had the best chicken wings in town.

"And you think out of all the people she could've been with, it was this guy?" Brad understood his confusion but doubted his conclusions. Their nights always ended in a blur and begun as a pool of headaches the next day so it was only fair to ease off the important conclusions that could change everything.

"Stranger things have happened," he offered. Tony pushed his way into his building, nodding to the doorman. They made their way toward the elevator and awaited their first choice of transportation. There was no way they would've made it up the stairs anyway.

"Yeah…" Brad dragged on. "Stranger things, like a totally hot girl _making out _with you in the middle of a bar. I can't even classify her as a 'hot girl'," he clicked his fingers thinking. "There's just something about her. Something…thrilling, it's sexy as hell." They moved into the elevator, both leaning back against its back wall for some stability.

"You're probably right," Tony mumbled about the former. He was too drunk to really think about it at this late hour and even if he did all his thoughts would become mush within minutes. Maybe they already had. Maybe these were all thoughts of his subconscious and he was lying on the floor of his bedroom passed out from his guys night out. In actuality, the pair had just made it to his door and he fumbled with the keys in his pocket in attempt to pick out the right one. The keyhole was a tremendous struggle, one he almost gave up on and offered the welcome rug to Brad as his place to sleep. After a couple of attempts, the key allowed him access and they rushed in with an ecstatic 'woo'. "Make yourself at home." Tony slightly slurred and headed for the bedroom to grab an Ohio State t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

Within twenty minutes the two of them were passed in their respective areas. Tony let Brad have his room while he drunkenly stumbled over to the couch. It didn't matter how uncomfortable and bad for his back it was, he was just happy to get some much needed sleep. Tony didn't bother with an alarm – it was Friday after all and he didn't expect to be needed back in the office until Monday.

* * *

Much to his surprise, the field agent was awakened by a phone call at about 9:15 the next morning. He didn't understand whether the ringing was in his head at first, but then struggled to reach for the device with his face still in his pillow. Tony's fingers sprawled over the surface of the nearby glass table until he finally caught his phone. He didn't bother checking who it was; it didn't matter at this point. He just wanted the ringing to stop.

"Yeah?" His voice was barely audible.

McGee's insecure voice came through in return. "Tony, hey. Gibbs needs us in. We got a lead on Ari."

"Yeah?" He asked again, pushing into the couch cushions. He hadn't entirely heard what McGee had said; his ears were ringing and his head was throbbing.

"Party too hard last night, DiNozzo? We'll see you in 20." The line went dead before he could respond, but Tony could already image the summation the McGeek was giving Kate about Tony's inability to communicate. Tony pushed himself off from the couch and headed into the bedroom. It was a weekend, hell what he looked like at work. He grabbed the nearest clothes he could find – a striped button-up and some jeans – and got ready as fast as he could.

Before he left out the door, he grabbed a bag and filled it with all the ingredients he needed for the 'DiNozzo Defibrilator', which had been passed down through six generations in his family. It would be his savior, he thought. "Gotta go, Brad – I'll call ya!" He slammed the door behind him and quickly made his way to his vehicle down in the lot. Well, maybe not too fast. He didn't want to throw up all over his expensive shoes. If anything, McGee's shoes would have to do.

* * *

He came in with a stumble, ignoring his co-workers on the way. "I'm here," he declared. "I'm here, boss."

"You're late, DiNozzo," Gibbs responded with a slight raise of the eyebrows. He watched him suspiciously as Tony pulled a cup out of his drawer and began to prepare his hangover remedy. Tony mumbled something back and blinked a few times. It was safe to say it probably wasn't English and he couldn't translate it or make sense of it if he tried. Even McGee's MIT education couldn't help them there.

Kate watched him carefully before smirking, "Aren't you too old to relive your fraternity days, Tony?"

He glanced at her, eyes still glassy. "You can't take the fraternity out of the man, Kate." It sounded better in his head.

"How unfortunate," his partner responded. She gave him a sarcastic, disappointed expression before slapping several thick files onto her desk on purpose. This was going to be fun.

Gibbs rose from his seat without further discussion. He was in the middle of gathering the necessities when McGee spoke up. "We going somewhere, boss?" His expression told them everything and the rest of his team rose, Tony trailing slowly behind.

"Got a lead. Let's go get the bastard."

* * *

The firefight on the roof erupted and Tony suddenly overcame his horrendous hangover that he'd woken up with that morning. He was alert and ready, but everything was up in the air. Bullets flew high and low and the best they could've done was watch each other's backs to make it out alive. McGee was lucky, though he wouldn't realize it until later.

And Gibbs was grateful for Kate's Secret Service training that morning. She ended up saving his life, jumping in front of the silver fox to prevent the incoming bullet from claiming the wanted target. It sent her flying to the floor and all she could do was laugh, though the pain was enough to leave her groaning afterward. Her vest had just taken a serious bullet and it hurt like hell.

Tony and Gibbs couldn't help but smile at her. She was alive and they were thankful. "You did good." Tony slightly laughed, impressed at her training. The two older agents helped her up and checked her over while she made a comment over their ongoing conversation.

"Wow, I thought I'd die before…" And she was gone. Everything went quiet for her. And she felt so cold.

* * *

"_What? What are you up to?"_

"_Tony! I just died, and you're having a sexual fantasy?__ "_

* * *

"_You were my sweet superhero, Kate."_

"_You're a naughty boy, Timmy."_

"_Oh my god, I'm becoming Tony."_

* * *

It was the first time in months that Ziva opened her eyes per her own vocation. It may have been the _only _time she had slept in until this time of day, though she was still unable to reap in its glory. Her brown eyes barely managed to open and she had to convince herself to roll over and take a look at the small clock that the hotel provided on the opposite side of the room. She blinked several times in attempt to adjust to the light and sat up slowly so as to not make herself nauseous. She forgot what this feeling was like. She hadn't felt it in several years and something told her that today was not the day to embrace an award-winning hangover.

Her breath still smelled like alcohol, which sickened her, but she tried to grow past it. Pushing the stench aside, she scanned the room to find no Ari in sight. Ziva could have sworn he was there last night and that she had heard him say that he was staying with her for the night. The mind makes up interesting things, she decided. Her phone was nowhere in sight so she went on the look out. After pulling the curtains closed, Ziva pulled her bed sheets apart – the continuous efforts made her more and more frustrated when she wasn't successful. She growled and tightly shut her eyes to ignore the massive headache that she knew would soon overpower her.

"Really?" She mouthed to herself after spotting the device at the foot of the bed. Ziva pushed her messy locks out of her face and focused on the phone in front of her. Her inbox was full of incoming messages, a ridiculous number of missed calls, and an overflow of e-mails from Mossad headquarters. There was no use calling them back, so she scanned over the e-mails instead. Headquarters had not received a status update from Ari himself or from her. He was officially considered off the grid and as his control officer she was the primary contact person responsible for his whereabouts and safety.

Letting out a sigh, Ziva dialed Ari's burn phone while she looked for something to change into. She didn't care what it was – the first thing her eyes found would do. His phone was off, however, and she officially had no other way of contacting him. As she tried to re-dial, another call came through.

She pulled herself together - found the same cargo pants and button up she had flown into the United States in - and accepted the call. "Abba, I –"

"Where is he, Ziva?" Eli pressed. "Mossad has been trying to contact you and I have been on the phone with the Director of NCIS for the last hour and a half. He is now a suspect in the death of one of their agents. Your responsibilities were to protect him. Did I not make myself clear when we last spoke?" His accent was thicker when he was angry. It brought her back to the times he would fight with her mother. It would roar through the house and Ziva would have no way to escape it. As she got older she became immune to it, but the challenge was protecting Tali once she came along. She took it upon her as her mission, but it soon falters. Tali was gone before she truly got a chance to live.

She squeezed a lime into her jasmine tea as she listened. It was the only way she was going to get through the day with the aftermath of last night and now today's sudden turn of events_. _She had a feeling all along that Ari was up to something, but it could have never been this. Ari could never do this. Her brother could never do this.

"I will take care of it," she finally promised. It was plain and simple, but the truth was that her father expected no less. "I'm on my way to NCIS now." The dropped line granted her an exit and she took the opportunity to find a scarf to maintain her untamed curls.

The door locked behind her and her cup of jasmine tea remained half full on the coffee table. Her commute provided her nothing but empty calls and she just hoped that she was not too late.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: So Cold, by Ben Cocks.**

**This chapter is the result of French wine and cheesecake. I apologize if people were looking forward to an expanded read on Kate's death, but I felt it wasn't as necessary for my own story telling. In relation to Kate's death, however - I am so ridiculously happy at how much the introductory lyrics to this chapter made so much sense for her death. "It's so quiet here and I feel so cold". Initially that was supposed to be meant for Ziva's arrival at NCIS, but in the end this ended up being so much more fitting. **

**Kill Ari Part 1 and 2 are probably my favorite episodes so I wanted to stay true to how some scenes were played out, apart from Ziva's initial introduction into NCIS. That'll come next. **

**I hope you are enjoying thus far and that it all is moving along nicely. If not, blame the chardonnay. **

**Looking forward to hearing from you!**

**Dina**


	7. Chapter 7

**This flood (this flood) is slowly rising up swallowing the ground**

**Beneath my feet, tell me how anybody thinks under this condition so…**

Ziva expected no less of Navy Yard security considering the ridiculous amount of security in place to even enter a shopping mall or café in Tel Aviv. It had both its perks and its downfalls, both of which she had gotten accustomed to as she grew into the young woman she had now become. After the taxi dropped her off as close as possible, she provided the security guards with her Mossad credentials and waited patiently as they made contact with the offices inside. Well, as patiently as Ziva David could. "We apologize, ma'am – we rarely get a Mossad officer dropping by for a visit." The word made her cringe inside, though she tried to hide it as best she could. She was only a few months over the age of 24 and there was no way anyone should have been classifying her as _ma'am. _Within moments, the gates granted her entry and she happily continued on her way with a small crossbody bag over her right shoulder accompanying her. It bounced slightly as she went.

The doors slid open to reveal the front desk security officers to the young Israeli. Ziva put on a tight smile and leaned on the table to face them. "I am here to see Agent Gibbs," she declared. They requested her credentials again and she gave them off willingly. Every extra moment that passed, however, worried her for Ari's safety. Ziva did not even know if Gibbs was in the building and she wasn't able to get in contact with Ari on her way to the Navy Yard either. It was nearly lunchtime and for all she knew the Gibbs wasn't in the office. He could be out quickening Ari's demise and she could do nothing to stop it. Ziva had never felt things were so out of her hands, and she painfully imagined the consequences she would face from the Deputy Director upon her return home.

One of the female security officers returned her credentials with a new visitor's pass for her to wear. "Please wear that at all times," she explained. "This is a secure building and you must be accompanied throughout the floors," Ziva agreed with a faint nod and clicked the pass onto her left shirt pocket. "Agent Gibbs' team is on level 3."

"Todah," she thanked the officers and headed toward the elevators.

Waiting for the elevator in the lobby gave her a few minutes to consider how to play this. Not only was it her responsibility to protect Ari, she was have to face Tony and somehow explain to him who she was and why she hadn't told him days ago. Then again, he was a federal agent – he would clearly have to understand her reasoning on keeping that part of her life private. That was surely reasonable, especially with her being a Mossad operative. No training ever taught her that she could go about her life letting everyone around her know her profession. It was as secret as she was herself, which is why it fit her so well. Closed off to the world, capable of anything. Her hangover was not helping the debate she was having in her head and she cringed every few seconds as her headed pounded.

Time to face the music.

* * *

The Gibbs team had not seen a day as dark in this in a very long time. There were no movie references filling the room and no pleadings for the annoyance to stop from McGee. The two men were sitting at their desks trying to do anything possible in order to get a one up on Ari and avenge Kate's death. Occasionally, they would sneak a glance at her desk and think the whole thing never happened. Their hearts raced and they waited for her bright smile to race through the bullpen and cause the banter to lift the energy in the room again. "Gibbs has been gone a while," McGee noted as his computer continued at work.

"Coffee," the Italian responded as he leaned back in his chair. His hands crossed behind his head and his eyes focused on the overcasting ceiling that allowed the natural light in. "Gibbs isn't Gibbs when he's being nice. He offered us coffee," he shook his head in disbelief. "He's not Gibbs if he's nice," he repeated.

Tim's computer made a noise that the two hadn't heard in a couple of hours – signaling success. McGee practically jumped toward the screen, taking the information in. Tony came around to the side to take a look, needing an explanation. "It can't be…" McGee muttered and turned to the senior agent who raised his eyes at him in question. "This entire time we were operating based on the fact that Ari was associated with Al Qaeda, which he technically could be in a way but it says here that he's Mossad. He's a Mossad officer."

"What?" Tony's hangover from the previous night was making a comeback and his mind went to mush. "Mossad operatives usually have a control officer, right? Can you access that?" He shifted on from one foot to the other as he waited for his team member to work his magic. "Should've taken Gibbs up on his coffee offer," he grumbled to fill the air. "I'm never drinking again."

"You always claim that, but you'll be drinking the next time your fraternity brothers want another night out." Tony was going to challenge him but held back. It wasn't the time. Kate was dead; he didn't have a partner anymore and he wasn't sure how to deal with that.

He responded honestly, "You're probably right, Tim."

The Italian's response was unexpected, and McGee raised his head to meet the agent's eyes curiously. It was one thing for Gibbs to be going through the motions, but he couldn't handle Tony actually being nice to him. It just wasn't right. Instead of addressing it, he cleared his throat and continued on with his search. "He has a control officer, yeah," he narrowed his eyes. "Not sure how to pronounce her name though – " He nodded his head over for Tony to come closer and take a look.

The elevator ran, opening to reveal Ziva alongside a few other agents that all went their separate ways after pointing to Gibbs' bullpen area. She nodded in thanks as her boots pulled her in the correct direction. She saw two men huddling over a computer screen and hoped that one of them was Gibbs – it would make her job a lot either. Hangover still playing a factor, she did not consider running into Tony so abruptly. "Ziva David," she announced her arrival. "I'm here to see Agent Gibbs."

Tony turned around so quickly he almost lost his balance. McGee slowly rose and peaked over the Italian's shoulder, nodding at the correct pronunciation of the young Israeli's name. Though women intimidated the probationary agent on a daily basis, there was something about the woman standing before them that made him want to run the other direction. She was beautiful – no doubt about it –, but she also could probably break him into a couple of pieces all before getting out a 'hello'. The silence continued between Ziva and Tony before she reiterated the point of her visit. "Agent Gibbs?" Her eyes narrowed as she waited for his first stab at her.

"What are you doing here?" The question came out slowly, each word inched him toward her and once he got out the entire inquiry they were all but chest to chest at the front of the bullpen.

Her brown eyes looked him up and down and a faint smell of alcohol remained on her breath when she opened her mouth to reply. "I need to see Agent Gibbs," Ziva said again. "Agent DiNozzo, this is not the time to –"

He let out a short laugh. There were bags under his eyes and, honestly, he should have been sleeping right now. It was a Saturday, Tony's favorite time to sleep off a hangover and reminisce over their sloppy but satisfying kiss from the night before. Instead, he was in the office – mourning the loss of his partner of two years, no less. "How can I help you?" His question was short and he straightened up in front of her.

"You are not Gibbs." For the first time since they had met there were no spark between them. The more they stood there, Ziva could see the fire burning in his eyes – for lying to him, for not telling him who she was. But she could not. The job was always more important and he was just a guy on the plane, and in the bar, and – as it just so happened – in a dossier.

He raised his arms to showcase that there was no one else in the bullpen but him and McGee; it was clear he was mocking her. "McGee, is Gibbs hiding under his desk again? I told him to stop doing that!" Ziva's jaw clenched and McGee put a hand on his shoulder to push him aside a few steps.

"I'm sorry, Ms. David –"

"Da-veed," she corrected.

McGee nodded in acknowledgement, "Agent Gibbs isn't here right now. Can we help you with something?"

Ziva studied the younger agent before responding. She had not anticipated this being so difficult – American agents were far more close to their co-workers than she had expected. Mossad officers, on the other hand, knew and understood the dangers of their jobs. Though they were professional with their co-workers, they never grew so close to them that it clouded their judgment and their way to continue with work if an unfortunate event had struck. "I am with Mossad."

"We gathered that much," Tony spat bitterly.

Ziva ignored him, keeping her gaze to the younger agent before her. "I am sorry for the loss of your agent, but I am here to stop Agent Gibbs from killing one of our officers."

"Ari Haswari?" Tony asked as he leaned back against his desk. His arms were crossed defensively at his chest and he somehow made her uncomfortable. She was not used to situations such as these, because he wasn't furious with her because of the job she was there to do. He was mad at her for not telling him who she was and leading him on. Then again, it could've been both and she was left to deal with the consequences of that while the rest of the Ari situation was weighing on her back. "I'd help you out, but I want the bastard dead too."

McGee could've cut the tension with a knife if he tried. More than that, he wanted to know why Tony was so furious with her. He got the impression that they were definitely previously acquainted, but since when did Tony fraternize with Mossad officers? "There's a break room right down the hall and to your left if you'd like to wait there," McGee offered.

"Thank you, Agent McGee. Please let me know as soon as Agent Gibbs gets back; it is urgent that I speak to him." Ziva turned on her heels without a look back at the other NCIS agent and headed for the break room as McGee had directed. She tried not to let his reaction to her get too much under her skin, but at the end of the day she couldn't help all that they had already shared. It made her all the more vulnerable to things coming out of his mouth that were directed at her.

McGee quickly turned toward Tony and furrowed his eyebrows. "What was _that_?"

"I need coffee," Tony pushed past the younger agent with a shoulder shove. "Hold down the fort."

* * *

Ziva found the break room with ease. She took in the fact that no one else was there with a natural high. Sometimes it was nice to be alone, especially after confrontations like that. She threw her bag onto the surface of one table and soon her headscarf accompanied it. Her curls roamed wild and she leaned over briefly to fix the dark brown wilderness. The locks fell comfortably once she pulled back and walked over to the vending machines that displayed all too many possibilities. Her fingers grasped onto a dollar in her back pocket and she carefully inserted it into one of the machines, waiting to receive her small packet of cheese crackers. In her short wait, her eyes took in a short text message from Ari – that he was okay and he'd be in contact with her soon. _Do not worry._

The door was pulled opened behind her and just as quickly closed. Ziva swore she heard it lock, but she remained as she was. She clicked her phone shut and pushed it inside one of her many cargo pant pockets. The machine accepted her dollar but her crackers stopped half way in their disbursement. "You didn't tell me," she heard him say finally. He stayed by the door, she assumed so he didn't get too angry with her. Ziva scoffed mentally at the thought. She'd take him in a heartbeat anyway.

"You did not ask the right questions," she mimicked her response from the night before. "Besides, you know as well as I do that we do not broadcast our professions to the entire world." Ziva waited all but a couple of seconds for the snack to fall. It didn't and she took it upon herself to force it with a smack of her knee. It fell then and Ziva leaned over to claim her cheese-covered prize.

His footsteps came closer. One, two. Three. "That's destruction of federal property."

Her eyes found his then and she studied him over her shoulder. "Are you going to arrest me?" Their witty banter was the only way she saw that this wouldn't end in them without killing each other. She turned swiftly then, crackers in hand, and leaned back against the machine. Her foot rested back against the disbursement window – comfortable – as she took him in. Tony's eyes seemed softer then, kinder. But he surprised her by suddenly moving toward her, bringing his arm to rest beside her face as he leaned in to watch her. Though her breath hitched, Ziva wasn't going to give him the upper hand. Neither of them blinked, but she brought up a few crackers to her lips and began to chew them as she continued to stare at him. "I am sorry about your partner," she offered genuinely.

He came closer, trying to read if she was being serious. Any closer and there would've been no space between them. "Is that a sentiment on behalf of the Deputy Director of Mossad?"

"Yes," she dug her hand inside the colored bag in quest for more crackers. "But it is also from me. I am sure she was an exemplary agent, but Ari Haswari is also a commended Mossad officer." Ziva watched him carefully, sure she crossed the line.

"And that excuses him killing an American federal agent?" His voice rose. Was she serious?

Ziva pushed him back a step, more for her than for him. She shouldn't be held accountable for her actions when she was furious but that was not how democracy worked. "You do not have any evidence!" She replied with just as much fire.

Tony ran his tongue over his teeth. He didn't understand how someone who was protecting the man he detested for murdering his partner managed to look so desirable. The way she was leaning back against the snack machine, her shoulders slacked and her face not a bit tense. Her dark curls were smashed against the glass, which made them look even more full. "Aren't you a little young to be a control officer?" He asked her then, trying to change the subject before there was a scene to process in the break room.

"The good ones are dead at your age," Ziva smirked. Her eyes sparkled for him just as they had at the previous night under the bar's dark lights. Their kiss flashed before his eyes and he could've bet any amount of money on the fact that he saw her features soften when she looked at him then.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: Dark Blue, by Jack's Mannequin.**

**I am so proud of this chapter for some reason. I think it really captured the essence of season 3 Tony and Ziva. I also managed to crank this out while drugged up on allergy medicine.**

**Please enjoy and review! If you have any plot suggestions, feel free to include.**

**Dina**


	8. Chapter 8

**They gathered up the wall and listening**

**You understand, they got a plan for us**

**I bet you didn't know that I was dangerous**

**It must be fate; I found a place for us…**

They were still for a while, taking each other in and the frustration of not having the time to discuss the night growing in depth. Ziva eventually averted her eyes from his. She crumpled up the empty bag in her grasp and tossed it over the Italian's shoulder, giving him a short smile of satisfaction at her success. There was nothing she could think of to say, to make things right between them, and she could tell he was still angry with her. Though his eyes were an appealing hazel shade, they also held a hint of darkness that she couldn't displace. Both the good and the bad were meant for her. "Look, we both have a job to do," she said quietly with a rise and fall of her chest. "I do not expect any –"

He raised his hand to stop her and she looked up at him then, her stare serious and never faltering. While she and Tony had an interesting run of things – one she had surely not expected – it was her job to protect Ari, to protect Israel on his behalf. "Ziva," he stopped her. She fought a serious battle with her lips to keep them from curling into a small smile; there was just something about the way he pronounced it. No, she had to be professional. She had to be the sharp end of the spear and the warrior her father had trained her to be and succeed in her mission. "We're not just going to let you take Ari if NCIS finds him," Tony told her honestly.

"You have no evidence," she repeated more calmly now. Didn't they just go through this? She pushed off the vending machine and straightened up, crossing her arms over her chest in challenge. "As his control officer, I am responsible…"

The door to the break room opened to reveal a much older agent, one she presumed to be Gibbs. He referred to her by name so she assumed he had been informed of her urgent matter to see him. "Yes. You are responsible, Officer David," Gibbs agreed.

"Da-veed," Tony and Ziva both corrected and she shot a quick glance into his direction. She noted the frustration in the team leader's eyes and pushed past Tony to follow him. She grabbed her belongings along the way, never missing a single beat. He ushered her out, but not before giving the younger agent a quick roll of the eyes. It was classic DiNozzo to act the way he was acting, but he couldn't even know the entire story if he had guessed.

"Please follow me; there's a more private place we can speak." Ziva agreed to his request and continued a few steps behind him. They were soon out of the bullpen area and heading down a long orange corridor. Ziva's eyes flickered around at the surrounding rooms – viewing and interrogation – and raised her eyebrows at him. "Private place to talk," Gibbs repeated as he pushed the silver door open for her.

The Israeli hesitated before stepping in. She caught a glimpse of Tony and the younger agent – McGee, that was his name – head to the adjoining room. "There is no conference room available?"

"All busy," he was short. "Sit. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

Ziva shifted on her feet, a little uneasy at the current circumstance. "The Deputy Director of Mossad will be hearing about this, I promise you." She saw that Gibbs wasn't budging and finally cooperated. Ziva pulled back the chair a little too violently and sat down to meet his eye level. "Am I being arrested?"

"No." Gibbs sat back with a file. Ziva assumed it was hers and waited until he would speak next. She didn't quite understand what this was about. Surely, she was not being framed for the murder of their agent. Her fingertips tapped against the cool surface of the table that separated them and she blew a few of her soft curls back when they fell against her face. "How long have you been in the States?"

"Six days," she answered honestly. "I flew commercial – Air France." Ziva refrained from mentioning it was the same flight that his agent had been on. There was no need to drag him into this, though she felt it would eventually come up.

Gibbs nodded in understanding, "Why?"

"Those are details of a Mossad operation, Agent Gibbs. They are classified." She watched him smile, which made her more nervous than she imagined it would. He had expected that out of her – a good soldier. Her father would be proud. He flipped a few pages in her file and nodded approvingly. Clearly, she had a lot of skill and was commended for her achievements at a younger age than most. Gibbs had no doubt that Deputy Director David had sent his best to relieve the unrest now developed between NCIS and Mossad.

"Does that operation have anything to do with Ari Haswari?" She rolled her head over her shoulders, irritated. Her lips allowed a quiet groan to escape and she shifted her jaw when she looked back at him again.

"I am his control officer," she paused to contemplate. "Anything else is _classified_. Mossad ethics, you understand. I am sure you have worked plenty of cases where that applies," She smiled to let him know that she had done her research. Ziva had every dossier of the members of team Gibbs memorized since the first day she got there. Ziva contemplated the possibilities of why they would presume her involved. Though to be frank, she did not know what they knew – Gibbs wasn't a sharer. Was Ari even alive? Dead? She was ill informed. "Is he dead?" Ziva asked suddenly, raising her head to look at the senior field agent in front of her. Could she even trust his word? He had given her nothing of him to trust at face value.

Gibbs shook his head and closed her file, placing his hands in an interlocking position over the papers. "Where were you last night?"

Ziva raised her eyebrows in response. "I do not owe this agency details of my whereabouts, Agent Gibbs." She was direct, challenging.

He rose quickly, slamming his hands against the desk and leaning in to her. "An NCIS agent is dead! We believe Ari Haswari is responsible. I'd bet my entire career on it, Officer Da-veed." He walked around to her side of the table and Ziva watched as he leaned down close enough to whisper. She stared blankly at the two-way mirror as she listened.

"Bar at Dupont Circle," she offered finally. "I went alone. Ari…" she breathed in. "Officer Haswari only accompanied me back to my hotel. I had a couple too many drinks," she admitted; it was best that she not include her relations with Agent DiNozzo in her alibi. However, it wasn't much of an alibi. It had its holes and she knew it. Ziva sat back then and turned to face Gibbs; she had never been more serious in her life. "I woke up to the news that a federal agent had been killed. Mossad instructed that I come to NCIS immediately and speak with you."

The two alpha male personalities sat in silence for a moment. It made DiNozzo and McGee visibly uncomfortable on the opposite side of the mirror so they counted their blessings they weren't the ones in the hot seat. Considering the exchanges they had just witnessed between Ziva and Gibbs, they were lucky to not be a part of it. Ziva watched the senior agent push away and begin to head for the exit. "He did not do this," she pressed adamantly.

"If he did, I'm going to need you to have my back."

* * *

Gibbs met his two younger agents in the hallway. He was about ready to delegate when a familiar face appeared to be heading toward them. "Gentlemen," the red head nodded. She had not expected Gibbs to let the other agents know of the drastic change, so she took it upon herself to rely introductions.

"Director," Gibbs nodded to her knowingly.

Tony hadn't had an adequate amount of time to react so he just stared ahead with a pair of bulging eyes. "I'm sorry, what?" He questioned.

"NCIS Director Jenny Shepard," she shook their hands. Tony was still caught off guard. "Yes, Agent DiNozzo. _The _NCIS Director." She let them take that in while her focus turned back to Gibbs. "Where is Ziva David? I was informed you were speaking to her. She is an old friend, Gibbs. I hope you are treating her well."

Gibbs offered a playful grin that the other two men had yet to ever witness. "Playing as nice as you would, _Director._"

"She saved my life a time or two in Cairo, Jethro. Let her know the Deputy Director David is on the line for her at MTAC." A knowing smile played on her lips as she walked past the men onto her next items of business.

"Jethro?" Tony questioningly clarified, giving his boss a mocking smile. He soon received an all-too-deserved head slap for that. It was something he had always called a clear sign of affection in American culture terms, but with the terrible hangover he had been battling the Italian could have done without. "I'll escort Ziva…Officer David up," he quickly offered and headed into the interrogation with a quick rub of the back of the head. He swore he lost a couple of brain cells every time his boss's hand met the back of scalp and messed with his perfectly styled hair.

* * *

Tony found the dutiful Mossad officer carefully folding her headscarf on the table before her. He offered a faint smile that she missed – her focus centered on the material in front of her while her fingers delicately worked – and took a seat in front of her. Her brown eyes met his briefly; she was not surprised to see him. "I cannot read him," Ziva said finally. Her body, now relaxed, leaned back in her chair to observe him. She could tell that he was not there to squeeze her for more information so she welcomed his presence as best she could.

He gave her a knowing smile in return, letting out a sigh. "If you manage to, please enlighten me with your ways, oh great one." His voice transformed into a tone she did not recognize and she furrowed her eyebrows at him. It was a look he remembered all too well from the night before when the guys had a movie quote off and all Ziva could do was down more mojitos to pretend she had enough patience for their ridiculousness. She remembered thinking that she was, however, grateful at any distraction she received that night and to be around someone she actually felt comfortable around was an added pleasure. "C'mon," he stood up and held the door open for her. "This room's too depressing, even for you."

She wasn't sure what that meant, but obliged anyway. She was sure it meant that Gibbs believed her to be innocent, which was good, but her prime objective had still faltered in execution. She did not know where Ari was or if he'd be willing to meet up with her and discuss what was happening. There was only so long that she could keep NCIS from following the crumbs to whatever truth was waiting ahead. They made it down the orange-based hallway together and Ziva had forgotten she had not spoken since her initial comment about Gibbs. "Some of us are having dinner in Georgetown tomorrow," the Italian began before they got to the bullpen. She eyed him suspiciously, but gave it the benefit of a doubt. "Hotel food gets overrated eventually, Ziva."

Ziva nodded in appreciation. "Do you think that is wise?"

"Well, yeah. We've been going there for years and dinner plans do usually constitute a delicious meal. No complaints here," his thumbs indicated to himself.

She rolled her head to one side knowingly. "Tony," Ziva gave him the famous roll of the eyes that she gave him too many times to count over the course of their 11 hour plane ride into Washington D.C. from the City of Love about a week ago.

Tony grabbed a hold of her elbow before she went on her way. "Even Mossad officers get hungry." Ziva wasn't expecting that and took a minute longer to process his words. They were walking a dangerous line and she wasn't sure how long she could do it without really complicating things. Sometimes he made her want to scratch her eyes out and other times he said things that made her feel like a normal person inside. He made her think that there was a chance she could be a normal girl – with a typical career, an apartment she had decorated, and happiness. All she wanted was something permanent; she had pondered the prospects of that possibility one too many times.

"Ziva!" It was prime opportunity to escape. She looked above to find Director Shepard, a familiar face, waiting for her to join them in MTAC. "Deputy Director David is on the line," Jenny informed her. Tony had not gotten that far in his sentiments, clearly.

"Deputy Director David?" Tony asked over the railing as the Israeli began up the stairs. "Wouldn't be daddy, would it?" McGee watched him from the side, still not quite able to gather the connection that the two shared prior to her showing up at the office earlier than afternoon.

"David is a common Israeli name," Ziva responded and continued up to the awaiting NCIS Director. Once at arms length the two shared a brief hug and exchanged a cheek kiss. Ziva left Tony below with no look back – she could feel his eyes on her, leering, but her head continued to spin as she tried to force herself to establish much needed boundaries.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: Dangerous, by Big Data. **

**I personally felt "eh" about this chapter, but I hope you did enjoy the read. **

**As always, positive reviews/plot suggestions warm my heart. :)**

**Dina**


	9. Chapter 9

**We are surrounded by all of these lies**

**And people who talk too much**

**You got the kind of look in your eyes**

**As if no one knows anything but us…**

Another day had come and gone for the team that was one member short. The atmosphere had only begun to lighten up that afternoon, which meant a few more movie references, 'probie' remarks, and a head slap or two when it was the most deserved. The work had been piling up and both Tony and McGee had voluntarily spent their Sunday evening putting in extra hours on the clock to get a steady hand on their mountains of paperwork. It felt as though the extra time only made their brains into mush, but stepping away the two agents seemed to actually see a newly made dent in their stalks. "You ever going to tell me how you know Ziva?" McGee piped up. He looked over to him with unwavering eyes. The secrecy of the entire thing had been eating away at him since the intimidating Israeli turned up at the bullpen.

"Curiosity killed the cat, McSherlock."

"Clever," his partner noted with a heavy hint of sarcasm. "But you are the self proclaimed king of curiosity and meddling. If the tables were turned, I'd never hear the end of it." He watched as Tony broke out into an amused laugh. It went a little too far and he grabbed his gut when the small stomach pains started kicking in. DiNozzo always went a little too far.

He collapsed into his comfortable desk chair again after putting a few finished reports on the boss man's empty desk. He hadn't been in since lunchtime, but Tony knew it was better to leave the reports waiting for him than not. "Ziva would break you in two just by looking at you, McGee. There's no way _any _of what ever it is you're envisioning would ever happen." Though his tone was amused, his tone was challenging. Almost like he was protecting what was his, and that was something McGee had never seen in Tony in the two years they had worked alongside one another. There was Abby, of course, who was like his sister – but McGee would've bet his life savings on the fact that this was different. Beyond that fraternity playboy exterior, there was a real connection with Ziva that McGee had yet to crack.

McGee watched as the Italian cleared off his desk and grabbed his leather jacket. The unpredictable DC weather had brought some cold and everyone at the office was snuggled up when the heating system wasn't enough. Tony DiNozzo, with as much style as one would presume. "You got a date tonight? You got a girl for every day of the week, don't you?" he was baffled. Even a Sunday? Come on. Damn those DiNozzo genes.

"You gotta give the ladies what they want," Tony winked as he zipped up his jacket and stuffed his hands in the front pockets. "It's just dinner with some friends though," he admitted. "Gotta keep my mind off all of this," he motioned with his eyes around the bullpen and the MIT grad quickly understood. They all had to do something to keep from thinking about Kate's death and Ari still no where to be found.

McGee briefly nodded, sending a small smile of understanding. "Have a good night, Tony."

"You too, Tim." The words were barely heard but in the end they did matter. Tony made it into the elevator and took his exit out to his beloved car.

* * *

"Those are your orders, and you may not like them. But that is why they are called _orders_, Ziva." She sat stoically in front of her computer screen, staring at her father who was thousands of miles away. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her eyelashes stroking away against the cool air ever so often. Ziva had no words for him, nor could she think of any. There was no leverage, no way to argue her way out. She had to accept that, just as she had to accept many things that quickly became a part of her world over the years.

"You have never asked something like this of me," she heard herself say finally. Her heart raced and she could've sworn it was going to bust out of her chest soon. There was so much at stake – both professionally and emotionally. How do you choose between that? It had never been a part of Mossad training, not in this specific way.

"You have killed before."

"Abba," but he cut her off.

"It is what it see," she listened to his heaviest of sighs. There was something different in his eye, a struggle. Ziva was almost willing to understand the torment he must have been feeling, but did not reward him with her genuine sympathies. After all, she had lost plenty in her few years in the world. Being a Mossad operative made each year feel like a decade, but she would be a fool – a good liar, but a fool – to say that the ever-changing circumstances did on break her mental stability little by little.

Ziva cleared her throat and looked into her lap. "It is late here. I will speak to you soon." The disconnect was quick and painless. It was the complete opposite of everything that her relationship with her father was. Her olive toned fingers grasped around the screen of the laptop and lowered it to a closed position. He was now gone and she could breathe; her small frame leaned back into her chair and she brought her hands to her face – indecision and pain had never felt more real.

Instead of dwelling on her father's shortcomings – definitely a very loosely used description –, she grabbed a light jacket to head for a walk. She decided a stop by the supermarket was a good idea, and the walk would do her some good. Having an amount she was satisfied with and her key card secured in her back pocket, the young Israeli headed out to clear her head.

Washington D.C. was so different from Israel, she had quickly realized. The neighborhoods, the people. They carried themselves in a different way and she enjoyed that. It was somewhere she felt she could start new, but that thought quickly passed as she walked down an alleyway. Soldiers did not settle. They were nomads and they were used to the lack of permanence that their lifestyles brought them. After passing a few empty bars, she eventually made it to a Safeway and her first smile appeared. She did not restrain herself then.

* * *

Ziva paid for the essentials that would get her through the next week. There was a small kitchen in her suite so she assumed she would do just fine. Things had often been worse and she had stayed in more terrible conditions than a four star hotel in the center of a beautiful city home to the White House. After a quiet thank you, she grabbed the paper bag and carried it against her chest on her walk back. It almost made her feel normal to do small things like this. Carrying the groceries, taking a walk – she took what she could get. Her quick pace led her back to The Oriental in much less time than it took her to get to the store in the first place, but she was eager to dig in and have a home cooked meal for the night. The snacks and chocolate she had grabbed mindlessly as she pranced through the options were an additional bonus. Ziva did not remember the last time she indulged in creamy chocolate and a good read of the books she'd brought along in her small carry-on bag.

For about a block now, however, Ziva felt that something was off. There were very few people in the street, but the one car in the street had made it with her all the way back to the hotel entrance. The heat of the headlights died on the back of her legs and she listened to the car door open and close. Without much further thought, she dropped her grocery bag to the floor and pulled her small knife from her hip. It had been hiding behind the rim of her tan cargo pants and now was as good a time as any for its debut. The Israeli turned swiftly, bringing the sharp edge up to the person behind her only to find a familiar Italian face staring down at her. His hands were slightly drawn, but he would be the last to admit he was intimidated in the slightest. "Your ninja senses must be tingling," he croaked out without a significant move.

"I could have killed you." They both stood still, registering in what had just occurred and trying to comprehend it.

Though she took in that it was him and there did not seem to be any immediate danger, Ziva did not draw back her weapon. Tony slowly put his fingers around her wrist and tugged it away from his throat. Her chest rose and fell but she let him guide her hand down and take the knife from her hold. She heard her held back breath escape into the street once the sharp weapon was gone. Her wild brown eyes watched as he took it slowly from her grasp and closed it shut before handing it back to her. She accepted it without a further word and watched him lean down to collect her recently bought groceries. "C'mon, get in."

She responded with a narrowing of the eyes, confused with the order. "You cannot afford me, Tony." She fought with him for the bag of groceries, but he won in the end. She settled for having had one up in the stalking and belittling him at knifepoint for the evening.

"Don't make me miss out on my steak, Ziva. It's the best ribeye in town," he closed his eyes to imagine it and a thrilled smile grew on his face. "Basically melts in your mouth, I guarantee it." His hands were growing colder by the second as the food continued to defrost at the bottom of the bag. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to give. All she wanted was a quiet night – alone. Well, alone with her comfort food. Yes, Ziva David did enjoy the occasional comfort food.

"Tony," she pursed her lips. "This is not a good time." Her eyes were tired and there was a look in them that he had not seen. Tony didn't know if he should push, for the first time actually considering his possibilities on how to proceed. For a badass Mossad officer that always managed to keep him on his toes, she just looked beaten down.

He took a more stable grasp of her groceries and nodded toward the lobby. "You got a refrigerator in your suite? Because all this will have to wait," he pressed lightly and was glad to find Ziva trailing slowly behind him. "Reservation's in fifteen minutes, but they'll wait. We're regulars," he assured her and for the first time she wasn't the least bit surprised. They shuffled into the elevator with a few others and waited until it made it to their floor. Tony and Ziva were the only ones to get off there and if she had to admit it she was grateful for the quiet. Her head was still drowning in anger over her Internet conference with her father and she didn't know what to do with herself. Tony's chipper personality did not aid her in any way.

Ziva finally spoke up when she slipped the key card into the security slot. "Does NCIS not have rules against fraternizing with the enemy?" After a brush back of her hair, she pulled the card out and pushed the suite door open to expose where she had been living for just over a week. Ziva tossed the access card to the side and her jacket onto her unmade bed before walking over to her closet for a change of clothes. Considering Tony's taste, she assumed he had a nice place in mind for steak. He seemed so eager, so full of life. And in that moment, she envied him more than she would ever admit for the way he was able to carry himself in spite of unfortunate situations. She failed to understand the grave difference in the severity of their worlds in that moment and simply wished she could feel something other than what now was.

"You're not my enemy," Tony replied. He set her groceries on the countertop and opened the fridge to see where he could stash them. Refrigerator Tetris was a favorite of his and he prided himself in being a champion of the annual household game amongst his friends and co-workers. All those games on his cell phone always paid off and when he did win the head slaps he received in the workplace for the technological distractions were worth the brain damage.

He kept himself busy while the Israeli officer looked through her things. She pulled her short-sleeved top over her head and grabbed a hair tie to pull her distracting curls away from her face as she pondered. "Politics are relative," she mused under her breath. "But Ari…" She shook her head slightly. "Is not." Tony came around just as she was buttoning up a silkier long sleeve with her favorite pocket detail on the front. He caught a glimpse of a section of her olive toned skin he had not had the privilege of seeing before and gave her a leading smile.

Her browns met his greens with a mysterious glint and she was only a breath away after a few steps. Her head rolled from her right side to her left and back as she studied his features, a small smile growing unconsciously on her face. "Sometimes it is hard to draw the line," her voice hit just above a whisper and her eyes looked so lost. With one blink, it was gone and she was back to the stoic warrior that Mossad bred and developed into one of their most prized possessions.

Tony became accustomed to pushing stray curls out of her eyes. He realized the more he did it the less she flinched and the more her face naturally beamed in appreciation for the gesture. After falling from their grasp on her hair, his fingers settled on her arms. He debated about the next move, knowing the wrong one would cause him a broken arm or leg. So he refrained and went for the lighthearted return. "You don't strike me as the 'boundaries' type."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I did not strike you. If I did, you would be on the floor – bleeding –, I assure you."

The Italian stared in silence for a moment, "It's an expression, Ziva." He leaned a few inches closer with a quiet chuckle. "Now, if you ever tell this to Gibbs or McGee I'll always deny it, but you _could_ probably take me."

Ziva met him in closeness. "In the bedroom?" Her eyes grew bright and her eyebrows shot up. His shock made her snort before she moved past him to grab the jacket she had previously escaped out of when they arrived. "You Americans are so gullible," Ziva declared as she pushed her arms inside the sleeves.

Tony found a bounce in his step, turning to face her again. "Hey, it takes a little more than a foreign accent and some stealthy ninja moves to emasculate me." He straightened up and pushed his hands in his pockets again. She always managed to one up him somehow.

"Only a little? How disappointing," she mocked and lightly patted his face in a sympathetic fashion before moving to retrieve her room key. "That says something about you, yes?" Ziva was ready and they were on their way. Tony lightly pushed at her shoulder as they approached the elevator to take it down, finding it his best retort to her low blow at the moment. His satisfaction was short lived; her foot tripped him on his way and she was quickly above him holding his twisted arm back.

Tony let out his infamous whine and begging expression. "Oh, come on. Come on," he pleaded. "At least let me have my last meal," he tried to bargain. She whispered something about the many ways she could kill him with the use of elevator wire and his amused persona finally fell. "You're a sick chick, Da-veed." The elevator doors closed.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: Tenerife Sea, by Ed Sheeran.**

**Please enjoy the fruits of my labor. S3 Tony & Ziva are so much fun to play with.**

**Not sure how long I should make this story though. It seems like I could write forever. Ideas?**

**As always, penny for your thoughts?**

**Dina**


	10. Chapter 10

**Drop his name**

**Push it in and twist the knife again**

**Watch my face**

**As I pretend to feel no pain, pain, pain… **

The pair made it through the lobby with a slow pace. Tony continued to mumble under his breath about the physical pain Ziva had no problem putting him through while she led him along with a pleased smile. It was a bit mischievous, but those who knew Ziva David well would have said it couldn't have been any more true to nature. "Can I drive?" She asked following him around to the driver's side as he struggled to find his keys. She got a 'are you freaking kidding me?' look from the taller man in front of her and thought about retreating. "I am a very good driver," she pushed. "My mother taught me when I was young."

Tony dug the key into the door without a second thought. He naturally snickered and snuck a peak at the still waiting woman before him. "Did you just reveal something about your personal life, Ms. Da-veed?" Tony pointed toward the passenger's side with his chin before getting in and shutting the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her hesitating – her ninja skills plotting a scheme to get her way behind the wheel but she quietly retreated and soon joined him in the vehicle. "How old were you when she taught you? 9 years old?" The Italian questioned as he buckled his seatbelt and checked his mirrors.

"Younger," she compromised. "I was…younger." Ziva pulled the seatbelt on her side over her chest and dug it into the lock until she heard a clicking noise. A short silence followed and their hands both reached for the control of the radio. She let out a low growl under her breath and he quickly let go, immediately identifying with how intimidated McGee had been of her when she first walked into NCIS the day before. Keeping his fingers was more important than being in charge of the radio. He struggled with that fact, but found it rational.

He stuck his tongue against his cheek and then forced his eyes back onto the road. There was no one to his left and he safely pulled out of his spot after signaling. It wasn't a far drive to Georgetown, but Tony would take all of the time he got to spend with Ziva willfully. _Poor Brad, _he thought._ He's probably begging a waitress for a steak at the bar right now. _The drive was indeed short and the two enjoyed the short-lived peace it allowed them. It almost told Tony more about Ziva than anything else had during their verbal communications of sorts.

The Israeli's eyes stayed trained to the window, watching the city move behind her every couple of seconds. She wanted to take in everything, knowing that her job was coming to an end soon. Ziva wished she could remember every detail – the beauty of each monument, the smell of the east coast air, the essence of the people. Despite all of its magnificence, she knew that her memories would fade as soon as a new assignment was given to her upon her return. "Thank you for inviting me, Tony." Her voice died out when she was half way through his name. Her head suddenly turned and she offered him a thankful smile. Her eyes told him she was desperate for an escape, if only for one night.

He nodded in turn, bringing his hand to the one resting in her lap and patting it lightly. "Yeah." They continued down Georgetown without shifting positions until they were stopped by the valet. Ziva thanked the attendant at her side and Tony did the same. They reunited at the entrance and he led her in with his hand resting on her back. Tony decided against going for the lower back, his mind painfully trailing back to their incident in the elevator. He wanted to keep his good hand for the cutting of the steak – it was the big showcase of his evening. "You're going to love this place!" He sounded like a little boy in a candy store, and all she shook her head and smirked in return.

The hostess gladly led them to their reserved table. It got louder and louder as they got closer, Tony's fraternity brothers being the prime causes of the noise. "DiNozzo!" Brad raised his hands dramatically in praise. "Thank God, man. I was about to order your steak and eat it myself if you didn't show up in the next 10 minutes," he threatened before pointing to the two empty seats in front of him.

Ziva smiled briefly at the man she had gotten to know a few nights ago at the bar. She pulled back her chair and took a seat at the neatly set table. There were drinks already waiting for them and she couldn't have let out a more genuine laugh when she saw the minty cocktail awaiting her arrival. "You remembered," Ziva acknowledged. "I am impressed, and I am sorry Tony is late. It was all my doing unfortunately." Her right hand gladly brought the refreshing drink to her lips and her lips pulled around the thin black straw that dispensed the liquid into her mouth.

"Women as beautiful as you should never apologize. I would've waited a lifetime for _you,_" he replied with a charming smile similar to Tony's. Ziva wondered then if that was a trademark within their circle, grinning to herself at the ridiculous thought.

Tony shook his head, grabbing the menu in front of him. He always stalled with his decisions even though he ordered the exact same entrée for all of the years that he and his buds had dinner plans at this place. "Gee, Brad. Glad to know you're happy I'm here too," he raised his eyes to meet his over the menu in his hands.

His closest fraternity brother shook his head into his menu with a smirk and shared a nudge with Matt who sat beside him. "This guy," he mumbled and the men across from Tony and Ziva shared a contagious group laugh. "When did you get so emotional, Tony? We called you ' the sex machine' when you were a pledge for a reason."

"What?" Ziva's voice broke through.

Tony ran his hand over his face to stifle a laugh and Brad sat up a little straighter, interested. "You don't have fraternities in college over at your side of the desert?"

Ziva sipped on her drink and shook her head. "No," she said shortly but remained in thought. "However, I may not be in the hoop. I joined the IDF as soon as I turned 18 and then…" Her mouth remained open as she caught herself, "Well, and then I went into contract work in Tel Aviv." She shared a quick glance with Tony and then exhaled as the waitress approached their table. Saved.

"Loop. It's 'may not be in the loop', Ziva," Tony offered quietly. He grinned over at her with an obvious undertone of judgment and she elbowed him in the ribs in return. Her eyebrows raised in a challenging way as he stared at her in shock.

Their dinner plans went about as best as they could have. Their conversations never died out while Brad and Ziva took equal stabs at Tony between bites of their mouth-watering meals. Ziva was only on her second drink by the end of dinner when Brad offered another. She waved him off, shaking her head. "I don't think that's a good idea. I do not want to relive the morning after. Not pleasant," she explained.

"I'm sure our boy here could take care of you," he egged her on with a wink. "At least now we know mojitos make you a spontaneous kisser." Brad quickly covered his statement with another bite. He contemplated the fact that she was military trained and quickly regretted the comment, knowing he could very well wake up the next day tied to a post in the middle of nowhere the next day.

Ziva licked her lips before responding. Her eyes narrowed like a lioness' as she was targeting her prey in the wild. It scared him even more then, but she didn't make any sudden movements. Her stare was enough to make him nervous enough to want to crawl out of his own skin. "It is too bad you'll never know for yourself," Ziva replied.

The other men at the table 'ohh-ed' and Brad laughed at her feisty bite back. "You're something else, Ziva." He raised his glass to click against hers, naming her as winner of their little back-and-forth power play. It was as honest as he had ever been with a woman and she deserved that.

About an hour later, the entire group was pleasantly surprised that they managed to stuff down as much food as they did – dessert included. Their college days at Ohio State had really paid off for their intake levels of any type of deliciousness. Brad and Tony both called the waitress over and requested the bill; struggling with each other to pay the tab. Ziva watched them with much curiosity, not seeing anything particularly like it in Israel. Tony's friends, him included, were like a whole new world to her that she didn't quite understand. American customs, she assumed. They were strange nonetheless. Tony and Brad continued on with the argument while Ziva slid past them to grab the check that was quietly resting between the two. Their voices died down then, staring at her in shock. She pushed away from their table with ease and approached the waitress at the register to take care of the amount herself.

Ziva returned to a full table of silent men, their expressions filled primarily with guilt and embarrassment. "You didn't have to do that," they all chimed in one after the other and she merely shook her head. Tony opened his mouth to add but she shot him down instantly with a glance.

"It was not a problem," she reassured as she worked on folding her napkin neatly and placing adjacent to her empty plate that previously held some of the most delicious food she'd ever feasted on. "I really do not mind."

* * *

The group made it back outside to find a very lively Georgetown still carrying the night away. Ziva kept to Tony's side so as to not get separated. The street corner was pretty heavy with foot traffic and the asphalt was broken and narrow. She felt him grab her from behind and pull her small frame to him while a line for the valet formed against the wall of the restaurant where they feasted. Ziva struggled initially, out of habit, but eventually relaxed into his grasp. Her shoulder blades pressed against his chest and her curls against his neck.

Their silence always meant so much more to her than when they spoke. The ends of her lips curled into a small smile as they slowly moved along to retrieve Tony's car from the parking attendants and be on their way. Eventually she felt him lean forward into her hair and whisper into her ear. Her jaw perked up slightly as she listened, "I need to grab something from work. You don't mind, do you?" Ziva shrugged in agreement, tightening his hold around her with her own hands. It was cold out after all, she convinced herself. Though truthfully, she enjoyed his comfort and company and decided to take advantage of it while it lasted.

As it came to their group's turn to part ways, they were quick. The guys exchanged their usual 'I'll call you later, man' and 'Yeah, basketball this weekend – you're on' before they thanked Ziva for coming and picking up the tab. She was modest and simply nodded as they parted.

"I'm going to pay you back," Tony said immediately as they got into his car. Ziva shook her head in response and turned up the heat, cradling herself in her arms for extra protection from the cold outside.

"Mossad is generous, Tony," Ziva promised him. "Money is not an issue."

* * *

Tony pulled into the Navy Yard lot only to find a few cars. He glanced around curiously before turning of the engine and letting out a 'huh' as a reaction. Ziva looked over to him with raised eyebrows, not clear on what exactly he was commenting on. "Just recognized Gibbs' car," the Italian explained. "Guess he's still here," Tony shrugged and pulled the key out of the ignition. Ziva nodded in response and pushed herself out of the passenger's seat. After slamming the door behind her, she pulled her jacket back on around her frame. The chill that night was strong and she relished in the comfort of her military jacket that she favored amongst the rest.

They headed in together, Tony going in first. It left Ziva a chance to glance behind them, picking up a strange feeling in her gut that she could not explain. When she saw nothing she shook her head to herself and proceeded forward. She saw Tony had explained that Ziva was with him and she didn't need to show her credentials like she had on Saturday morning. Her feet caught up to his pace and she gave a small tight smile to the security officer still on duty as they passed. "I hope Gibbs does not mind," she mused quietly as the elevator doors closed them in.

Tony glanced down at her before giving a reassuring smile. "He's probably not even at his desk. Not that he'd kick you out or anything. Allies, remember?" His shoulder nudged hers.

"Allies," Ziva repeated. Her fingers fumbled with themselves at her sides while her mind ran wild. She did not owe NCIS anything necessarily, but she felt a strange obligation to Gibbs after the day she had spent with him in interrogation. She couldn't place it exactly, but she felt some sense of duty to him for trusting her despite who she may have been.

The elevator doors granted them access to their floor – exposing the bullpen in the dim lighting. The windows exposed a beautiful portrait of Washington D.C. all lit up. A glorious view that Ziva took her time to take in while Tony looked through things at his desk. Ziva was so lost in the view that she didn't realize Gibbs was indeed situated at his desk with a large cup of coffee. One, she would have guessed, that was likely the reason for his being so awake and alert at this hour.

Her arms were resting comfortably in a crossed position over her chest when Gibbs came up behind her. She sensed his presence and immediately straightened up. There was something about the fact that it was _his. _She knew the difference between his and Tony's, granted if it had been Tony he would have been rambling on about something right about now. "Beautiful at night," he shared.

"Yes," Ziva nodded her head. "I think I will even miss it," she voiced a little playfully before taking a look at him over her shoulder. They shared a look and Ziva's lips parted to say something but nothing came out. What was it about this man that made her just want to talk? She was definitely not one to share, but when he looked into her eyes it was as if he could see her. He could really see her, the person she was, and he could see the many things she was struggling with. Her jaw shifted in frustration, her burning brown eyes lowering to the floor while she battled internally with herself.

Gibbs nodded again; somehow he understood. "Officer David's going to walk me out," the team leader informed his senior agent. "Don't stay too long, DiNozzo." Tony nodded without really understanding what had just occurred and watched as Gibbs nodded toward the elevator. Ziva followed behind him without much hesitation and let out a troubled sigh as the elevator doors closed.

* * *

They both stood silent for a second, staring at the metal doors in front of them before Gibbs pulled the emergency switch. The lights cut out and Ziva eyed him suspiciously. "Spit it out, Da-veed."

She turned to him then, her face blank. She struggled with her loyalties to Mossad and to her father as she made the decision to confide in Gibbs. If there was any intel she had to share with him, it had to be this. Especially after her close connection with Jenny Shepard and the many things she had heard about Gibbs, she felt it was only right. Only fair to an ally. "I need to share something with you," Ziva began. She was hesitant and it was obvious.

He turned to face her, wondering. "Yeah?" Gibbs urged.

Ziva pursed her lips as her eyes wandered around the small space they were confined in. They found the older man's again and her breath caught. "I still do not believe Ari is responsible for your agent's murder. I want you to know that, Agent Gibbs."

"You've already shared that," he watched her closely.

"The Deputy Director…" Her voice quieted. "I was given orders to kill Officer Haswari to gain your trust," Ziva let out as quickly as possible. It was the only way she was going to tell him. Like ripping a bandage off, right? _Tali would have been so ashamed._ She watched his stoic face – no reaction. She continued, "I have never defied an order, but I…I do not believe he is responsible and I do not think taking my brother's…my half-brother's life warrants your trust in me."

Her hands dug into the pockets of her pants as she stared at him. There it was, all out in the open for Gibbs to do whatever he wanted to with it. Ziva's mouth turned dry and the oxygen drained from her brain; she replayed the words that had just come out of her mouth again and again reconsidering the entire thing but there was nothing she could take back. Not if she tried, not if she begged. "Officer Da-veed –"

She cut him off, a scary concept she'd evaluate later. "I need to bring him home," it was the most honest thing she had ever expressed in her life. Her heart raced as Gibbs turned back to flip the emergency switch off without a word. A short sound came from underneath his breath that she did not catch and they continued down the elevator shaft in silence.

* * *

Gibbs breezed past security and into the lot while Ziva was held back. She glanced over at him, a silent promise that she'd catch up, before turning to the security assistant and letting her process her visitor's pass. "I will only be a minute," she explained. "I came in with Agent DiNozzo and I was just walking Agent Gibbs out." Ignoring her explanation, the young assistant took her time before handing back the restricted access pass to the Israeli.

Her delay gave way for an unfortunate opportunity. Before Gibbs was able to open his car, he was lightly pushed aside with a head of a rifle. His eyes looked up to find Ari standing before him, finally in the flesh. In the meantime, Ziva slid past the automatic doors and headed toward the almost empty parking lot of the Navy Yard. Inching forward she heard an all too familiar voice. It was not calm or pleading, his voice was lined with hate and misery that the unfortunate relationship between him and their father had caused.

Ziva slowed her pace, pressing her back a wall that hid her from view. Her bad angle did not hide her from the reality of it all, however. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Ari raise his weapon and she did not need any more evidence to solidify her decision. Her body came around swiftly, her hands already around her gun and she fired a single shot just when Ari's eyes caught hers. It rang through the Navy Yard.

He went down smoothly, his dark eyes somehow still trained on her, and Gibbs turned around to find the Israeli – who had just pleaded for the man's life – responsible. Her face wore no reaction, but her fingers trembled in the slightest of ways as the result of her actions finally registered in her brain.

Footsteps were heard coming from inside the building within seconds. "Boss!" Tony came around in as quick a pace as he could, gun in his hand. He immediately slowed when he took in the unexpected scene before him.

Ari was dead, the Great White was unarmed, and Ziva remained standing just as still as when she pulled the trigger. Her eyes remained glued to the growing pool of blood from the corpse on the cement ground. He was gone and all she had left was herself.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: Heartbreak Warfare, by John Mayer.**

**A couple of things - **

**First, a huge thank you to Com2neZT for the plot suggestion. I think it really brought something great to the plot I have been working with. I'm very happy with where the story is right now. Something different, but still organic and true to character. **

**Second, to Mollie (and anyone else who may be interested in this): I will definitely update each chapter in the A/N section with the song/singer information for each set of lyrics that I have used to set up the chapters once I am done with this piece. **

**I cannot believe I have come this far - for my first official work. I am so grateful for all of the favorites, follows, and reviews that this piece has received. This plot idea has been with me for a couple of years and I'm sad to see it end. Two more chapters and then it'll be a wrap. Do not fret, I will continue to write additional pieces once this one is complete. **

**Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed chapter 10. Penny for your thoughts?**

**Dina**


	11. Chapter 11

**I don't care if we don't sleep at all tonight**

**Let's just fix this whole thing now**

**I swear to God we're gonna get it right**

**If you lay your weapon down**

**Red wine and Ambien**

**You're talking shit again, it's heartbreak warfare…**

Everything remained so still for a moment that they didn't notice the anger of the sky above them. In typical Washington D.C. weather, when it rained it poured. The water quickly covered not only the cement but also over all four of them. Ziva watched Ari's clothes soak quickly, the puddle of his blood growing rapidly with the help of the rain. She was too focused on his still body to realize how soaked her hair had become. It lost all its volume and was sticking to her face and neck. Her jacket turned a much darker green and she started feeling the cold water seeping through her pants as it caused the material to stick to her bare legs.

Gibbs let out a sigh of relief when he realized that Ziva had taken her shot from the security camera's blind spot. His chin barely moved to nod over to his senior agent who was standing behind Ziva. They gave him a silent order and Tony did as he was told. He would have done it anyway, no matter how unethical. The Italian reached into his pocket to find a tissue as he came up behind Ziva. He slowly pulled the hand that was still holding onto the barrel to set it free. Once in his grasp, he wiped it clean of her prints and made sure it was safe to handle. "Ziva," he whispered. For only the second time in his career, he realized that he was unsure of what to say. His lips parted to let out an apologetic sigh and he watched his boss approach.

"Tony, call it in. Go." The two men stared at each other, Tony obviously struggling to follow the order. Gibbs stared him down until he began to move, handing the gun to his superior. It didn't matter that their prints were on the weapon as long as they weren't hers. Considering the situation, anyone would expect Gibbs' fingerprints to show up on the weapon. That was how he wanted it and that's how the report he was going to submit would detail it. His hand reached hers – ice cold, wet, and shivering. His fingers wrapped around a few of hers and squeezed lightly. She felt the blood rush through her body then, reassuring she was still alive. She was still standing there, wasn't she?

"One minute," Her voice was so quiet; she could have sworn it had never sounded so fragile in her life. Maybe the day her mother passed away. Maybe. A few droplets of the continuing rain fell onto her lips and ran down her jaw. Ziva raised her right hand to wipe the liquid away, frustrated with the tingling sensation that it gave her. She didn't want to feel. Not right now, not for a long time.

Ziva pushed past him toward Ari's body. The closer she got, the sicker she felt but she couldn't leave him lying there alone. Despite everything he had been responsible for he did not deserve that. He did not deserve to die alone. She crouched over him, digging one knee into the cement and stayed with him as the rain continued. Her brown eyes looked up to find the rest of Gibbs' team in front of her. McGee had come running when he got the call from Tony and Jimmy and Ducky were only a few steps behind. Ziva watched as they settled their evidence kits onto the ground and carefully pulled the latex gloves over their hands.

She rose to her feet when they began working, not caring to see them work on the crime scene. The yellow tape was already up and she wondered how she had missed that. Had she stayed with his body for that long? It felt like only a couple of seconds had passed between Tony hurrying off and then returning with the rest of the team at his side to handle the scene. "I need to take his body back to Israel," Ziva said finally. Everyone looked up immediately, shocked but somehow pleased to hear her voice.

"I will do my best, my dear," Ducky assured her. He took in her broken state and offered a shake of the head that was meant more for her than Ari.

Ziva blinked every time McGee snapped a photo, averting her eyes as best she could. She barely made contact with Tony who made sure to keep himself busy for both their sakes. He focused on collecting any and all evidence and labeling it for Abby to process. "No, it needs to be escorted by tomorrow."

Ducky did not want to make any false promises. He straightened up again, thinking to choose his words wisely. He gave his younger associate a few orders before walking over to the Israeli who was waiting for reassurance. Gibbs joined them immediately, stopping Ducky from getting himself into something with the unstable officer standing before him. "You'll have it, Ziva," Gibbs promised without actual confirmation from Ducky. "Let them handle it," he pushed with a nod over to his younger agents before putting his hand on her back to push her out of the rain. "Now, get out of the rain."

The Israeli did not have it in her to argue with him. First they lost their mother, then Tali, and now Ari. It was truly unreal and she hoped that she'd wake up tomorrow and it would prove have been a horrible nightmare. It was a nightmare in the end, one that she would be forced to relive for the rest of her life. She faintly nodded and moved past the scene, pulling the soaking hair that framed her face a little too aggressively. Tony and McGee glanced over their shoulders to watch her pull the tape over her head and willingly embrace her offered escape.

* * *

McGee pulled himself to his feet, his camera strap hanging around his neck to keep the expensive device in place against his chest. He exhaled hard enough to blow the rain away from his lips and leaned in to examine the perfectly aligned kill shot in Ari's forehead. "Gibbs is one hell of a shot," the probationary agent shared. He brought the camera to his face and focused in for the photograph.

Gibbs and Tony shared a silent look, deciding quickly on how this entire situation was going to go. It was best that way for both NCIS and Ziva, though Tony would not understand that for a long time since its occurrence. "Yeah. Yeah – he is," Tony agreed while Gibbs grunted away one of his usual sounds as they pulled together and continued to process the scene until everything was completed.

Tony pulled the bag evidence together only to have it taken away from him within seconds by Gibbs. "Boss, I was going to take that –"

"I'll get it to Abby," Gibbs promised with no intention of further challenge. He stalked the bags of evidence atop the cardboard box that held the fired weapon, securing it all in his grasp. "I need the report written up as soon as possible; can you handle that?"

"Well, yeah…" Tony ran his fingers through his head contemplating the question. "Of course I can handle that, boss. I got it." He dug his hands into his soaking pockets looking at the older man in front of him. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask but he knew that this was not the right place or time for that. Naturally he wondered if there was ever going to be a time for him to really get down to the bottom of what he wanted to know. He had worked for and with Gibbs for so many years now and there were quite a few incidents he wouldn't have minded knowing the whole deal about. Out of all of them, this would be one keep a tab on.

Glad to hear the agreement, the silver fox turned on his heels to head back inside the building with all of the 'goodies' for Abby to process and analyze. Watching him go, the Italian pulled the gloves off his hands and dropped his head for a brief moment. He just needed a minute to really process all of this, as he hadn't had the opportunity to take in the fact that Ari was dead, that Ziva had shot him, and that this was all over. It was over in more than one way for all of them.

McGee's voice broke through the silence again. "You don't think she's going to come after Gibbs for this, do you?"

"No," The Italian lifted his head to find Tim beside him. It was all he could manage, feeling his emotional and physical exhaustion finally catching up with him. "It's over, McGee."

* * *

Gibbs moved through the building in honest Gibbs fashion – quickly. He made it down to Abby's laboratory where he found the Goth-inspired scientist pacing back and forth from a lack of update on the situation. "Gibbs!" Her strong yet feminine voice yelped as she turned to face him. She dropped the tips of her ponytails that had been keeping her busy and wrapped her arms around him immediately, clearly grateful that he was okay.

"I heard the shot but no one told me…and when I heard it was Ari," she continued to ramble as she pulled back to look at him. "I'm just so glad you're okay, Gibbs," her arms pulled him in for another embrace. He settled the evidence onto her table once she allowed him a break from her typically long hugs and started sifting through it.

"I need this processed."

Abby signed the chain of evidence logs as quickly as she could before she cut the evidence bags open for examination. "As soon as possible. Sooner, I'll get it to you even sooner than that."

"Abs," he grabbed her by the arms to settle her nerves. "We got him, alright?" _We - it was so relative. _

She kept a tight grasp around the evidence bags and brought them to her chest but took the moment to lean into him for the much needed emotional support. They got him. Gibbs finally got him.

"It's over," she whispered. It was more for herself than anyone else. The two of them remained there for a while, both their minds running wild at the unexpected turn of events and circumstances they never really expected to be faced with. Gibbs nodded against the top of her head and placed a small kiss on her forehead when she pulled back to look at his unreadable features. Even at a time like this – what should have been a triumphant time for team Gibbs – she could not read what was going on in his head.

"Mossad will need a copy of the analysis," Gibbs circled a couple of fingers around her back when she nodded quietly and began to focus on the evidence he had just brought in for her. The next time she looked up with an urge to hug him again he was gone.

* * *

Although Gibbs had sent Ziva back inside NCIS, she couldn't find it in herself to stay long. She paced in the lobby for a good 10 minutes before deciding to leave and head back to her hotel. There was no way that they were going to help her with the crime scene and she wasn't going to get Ari's body released to her custody until tomorrow so she decided to go. She was of no use to anyone there. The security assistant yelled after her when she made her way out, but the Israeli continued on her way. She made it out of the Navy Yard fairly quickly and headed for the nearest underground metro station that would get her back to The Oriental.

The elevator was too slow for her liking so she jogged down to make it to the ticket machines faster. There were a few open machines so she settled for the closest; she dug into her back pocket to retrieve a few wet dollars and gave it up for a one-way ticket on the orange line. The train arrived fairly quickly, another thing she had grown to really appreciate about the city, and she was on her way. Her drenched clothes received a few strange looks from the passengers in her car so she refrained from eye contact and ignored the continuous chills that her soaking clothes were sending down her body.

Ziva had never been more grateful for how quickly she arrived at her destination. She pushed past all the other exiting passengers and made her way back up the escalator. It was still pouring out and she made a run for the hotel. At that moment it felt as though she was running from herself and from her decisions. Her legs wanted to give out – leave her heaving in the middle of the street – but she pushed herself to keep going. She was so close but so far away, and this was the first time she realized she could never truly escape it. Her walls. Her relationship with her father. Mossad. Ari's death at her hands. She couldn't escape any of it.

The Oriental had never looked more beautiful then. She took a deep breath and walked into the lobby, careful not to slip on the expensive tile floor considering she was soaked from head to toe. Her head fell against the elevator doorframe as she waited for it to arrive at the lobby. Her eyes closed instantly and her chest rose and fell slowly enough to even her breathing. Ziva considered calling her father then, but decided against it. She wasn't in the right state of mind to handle it. An e-mail would surely do.

Ziva kicked off her soaked through boots as soon as she had the chance and left them to fend for themselves in the hallway. Her jacket landed on a chair that belonged to the dining table set and she began to unbutton her top as she took a seat in front of her computer. It took a minute to load, giving the defeated warrior a moment to herself – to breathe, to shake, to cry.

_Father – _she deleted.

No.

_Deputy Director David – _she began again.

Unnecessary.

_Heading home_ – no. _Heading back. NCIS has the report._ Ziva typed in the browser and sent without a second thought. He'd understand. This is what he always understood. The click her closed laptop made relieved her and she gladly pushed away to find salvation in the hot water in the sink had the prospects of giving and bring some color back to her face.

* * *

She had changed into a spare pair of pants and a black short-sleeved t-shirt when a few strong willed knocks sprang against her door. Ziva hesitated, not in the mood for visitors. Licking her lips, the Israeli approached the door and placed her hand on the handle before making the actual decision to pull it open. Eventually she inched it open, revealing her dead and tired eyes to the man in the hall. Ziva opened her mouth to question his reason for coming when he spoke first, leaning against the doorway. For the time being he didn't fight the fact that she wasn't letting him in. "You look like crap," his voice broke through honestly.

Her eyes narrowed a centimeter and she considered closing the door in his face in attempt to forget that he ever came. It was more than that – to forget that all that had happened _did _happen. Ziva wanted to forget their 11 hour flight, him bringing her coffee, her meeting and growing accustomed to his friends, their sloppy kiss, his finding out who she really was, all of her moments with Ari in D.C. that she would have given her life to have just a month ago if someone had offered it to her, and her pulling of the trigger. There was that. There would always be that. "C'mon, Ziva." The Italian urged but let her have the control.

He tried to smile when she opened the door, but it did not make it to its designated recipient. Ziva turned her back as soon as she let him in and proceeded to picking up all of her cold and wet clothes off the floor where they had been soaking through the carpet. "You did not need to come," her voice was stoic but her pained eyes gave her away when she turned around to look at him. The Italian nodded but did not respond, moving to take a seat and observe her. She ignored his presence – it was fairly easy without him talking – and grabbed her duffle bag out of the closet.

Tony reached out to grab it from her. "You don't need to do that right now," he whispered with a look down at her. They struggled for the bag before Ziva let out a growl and released the straps. She ran her fingers through her now damp curls and walked away from him, resisting her Mossad training and short temper. "Ziva, you –"

"I killed him," Ziva finished for him as they settled face to face. _Let's call it what it is, shall we?_

"You didn't have a choice."

"It is what it is." It meant much more than what it was in that moment. She imagined their family must have coined that phrase, copyrighted it somehow. They had relished in its simplicity and its way to get out of any difficult situation in order to not have to face the music. She had always refrained from using it because of the never-ending excuse it played in her life, but now was as good a time as any to accept the self-ridicule that came with it. "Gibbs was right," her voice was cold. Her arms remained at her sides as she continued to battle internally with her decision. The sound of her gun going off continued to replay over and over. Every once in a while she would flinch.

Tony scratched his cheek before responding, not wanting to push her too much. His eyes danced from the floor to her, "He often is." He tried to offer her a sympathetic and understanding reply but he couldn't have been more wrong. The look she gave him in response almost killed him. She was furious, that much was clear, but she was too weak to follow through with her retaliation. Though he was thankful to not have a broken arm or leg, Tony missed the fire that burned within her and made her the strong woman he met. The independent one who didn't take any shit and didn't need anyone to support her. The one who stood her ground against anyone in her way when they weren't on her side.

"I am escorting the body back to Israel tomorrow," Ziva released while she struggled to keep her eyes open.

"I heard," he reminded her. "I could drive you if you want," Tony's eyebrows raised with the offer.

Ziva shook her head, shutting her forehead when another memory of the gun firing rang through again. "Mossad is sending a car in the morning, and then I guess…"

"That's it," he finished for her and she looked up then. It wasn't the time to say everything she wanted to say to him. Then again, it was never the time – for either of them. She had spent so many years putting up walls that it didn't make sense to her to do something different now. It didn't make sense to change for him, to be honest with him about what she was thinking and feeling. That wasn't the Ziva David she knew. The Israeli let it subside and nodded absently, almost regretfully. "But we still have tonight," he surprised her.

Ziva stared at him warily, now leaning against the wall opposite him. She watched him slowly move across the suite and close the space between them. Her eyes followed him as he made it right in front of her and his arms came around her to pull her away from the wall into a gentle embrace. "I am not sleeping with you, Tony," she proclaimed against his shoulder. He smelled like cologne and rain mixed into one. It was rather disgusting, but after what that evening had brought she didn't seem to mind too much.

He laughed into her hair and let his fingertips trace random patterns across her back. She allowed it and stepped deeper into him, inhaling his scent. "But if we were, let's say…"

"No," she answered adamantly and pushed her shoulder into his chest to prove her point. Silence overtook them – exhaustion setting in – and they lost track of how long they stood there. Every now and then Tony would whisper something to her and she would lazily reply. She eventually built up enough stamina to apologize for her kissing him in the bar. He simply hummed in response, not wanting to complicate the situation more than it had already proven to be. Instead, Tony's mind drifted to the taste of her sloppy lips on his and he settled for gently swaying with her near the windowsill as the night wasted away.

In the morning she would be gone just as unnoticeably as her exit at the arriving terminal of Dulles International Airport.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: Heartbreak Warfare, by John Mayer. **

**Words cannot express how thankful I am for all of the amazing reviews I have received thus far. They are far too kind and far too many in number than I thought my work ever deserved. I hope that I have maintained the appropriate level of romance in this piece all throughout. Initially as I imagined this, it was more heavily romance driven but as I began constructing this I wanted to stay true to character, the sexual tension, and subtle layering of romance that we all know and love. **

**Thank you to bright-miss-sunshine 3 for especially this: "You really can capture Ziva's essence. All her thoughts, actions, words,... it's just how I would have imagined her." It gives me so much pride to be able to produce work that capture's Ziva's characterization to its fullest. Thank you for the highest of compliments in my book. **

**I also hope that - though briefly included - I did Abby's character justice. I've come to realize it is extremely difficult to portray characters other than Ziva for me so I hope that my best came through as good enough, if not great. **

**I hope you enjoyed chapter 11. One more chapter in closing is left! It has been quite a ride. **

**Penny for your thoughts?**

**Dina**


	12. Chapter 12

**In a way, I need a change**

**From this burnout scene**

**Another time, another town, another everything…**

Ziva's eyes desperately tried to adjust to the morning light. She found that Tony and she ended their evening on the couch in front of the television set, which was still going strong. The menu window was displayed, indicating that the movie they had fallen asleep to had finished sometime through the night. Her arms helped push her away from the Italian still asleep beside her, face comfortably pushed into the small pillows and one hand hanging over the edge of the couch. A genuine smile spread on her face before she forced herself to quickly gather her things around the suite so that she was ready for the car that would soon come for her. Mossad was never late, she reminded herself and proceeded on her packing spree around the room.

Her drenched clothes from the night before were now dry but not without an unfortunate stench. She took what she could get and stuffed them into a bag that she then placed at the bottom of her bag. Ziva always traveled light so the late not packing was not extreme issue that caused her too much havoc. Tony remained passed out on the couch while she went back and forth. She wondered how a federal agent could be such a heavy sleeper considering the uniqueness of his job. Being senior field agent meant he was usually the first called out to a NCIS designated scene so he should be ready to go at any moment. A shrug pushed her unconfirmed thoughts away before she stared at him for too long.

Crouching to the floor, her fingers pulled the zipper from one side to the other. She grit her teeth, hoping not to wake Tony. She was never one for goodbyes and she wasn't planning on changing that any time soon. Her quick routine gave her enough time to change attire – another pair of cargo pants and fresh boots for the comfort of the road. "Okay," she mouthed to herself in an exhaled breath. Her eyes wandered around the room to double check before she headed out.

Her eyes caught themselves in the mirror, maintaining their dark undertones and bags that she now wore with regularity. She was securing a headscarf around her dark curls when she had a change of mind, deciding that her new idea was use of it. A promise of some sort. Ziva set her curls free and settled the scarf onto the coffee table in front of Tony's sleeping form. Her olive toned hand reached for the nearest post-it and pen to leave for him.

_I was never one for goodbyes. Enjoy the room; the tab is open for another 12 hours._

_Take care of yourself, Tony._

_Shalom,_

_Ziva_

The Israeli pulled one bag over her shoulder and grasped the straps of the other in her other hand. Time to go, time to say goodbye? Time to say see you later, perhaps. Ziva paused at the foot of the couch, her brown eyes watching the man she met less than two week ago sleeping more peacefully than she had ever observed. She was more grateful than he would ever know, more grateful than she would ever share. Her fingertips ran gently through the ends of his hair until he began to stir. She held her breath and took that as her cue to be on her way. "Todah," it was the only thing she managed to mouth before struggling to leave. The room key was left on her bed and the door closely silently behind her. It was time for her to go home.

* * *

It was a long flight back – to the desert, the sandy beaches, and the palm trees that swayed back and forth in response to the weak breezes. Despite everything that had happened in the last 48 hours, she practically ran off the plane. Her boots hit the sandy ground, ignoring the Mossad officers waiting for her, and she crouched down to feel the hot sand grounding against her palm. That was all it took. It was enough to make her feel again, even a little bit. It was just enough.

"Officer David," the awaiting officers greeted her eventually. Ziva rose to meet them with a nod and extended her hand out for the keys. The men hesitated, exchanging a short glance amongst themselves before reluctantly handing over her prized possession.

Ziva grasped them away before they had a chance at a second thought. "Todah. I have been deprived of my driving privileges long enough."

"Deputy Director David is expecting you," one stated the obvious as Ziva got around to the driver's seat. No response was given, something they expected was true to her usual personality. Ziva was not one for long conversation, especially with security detail that her father assigned to her behalf. _I am protecting you, Ziva_ – her father's voice rang through her head. She shook it away and pressed on the gas pedal. The black SUV sped away, leaving the sand to create a blinding uproar behind them.

It took Ziva a week to get her head around the idea of making a change for herself. Her time in America opened her eyes to the man that her father truly was, one she had always suspected him to be. Even though it was all too expected, she struggled with the idea of leaving her home behind. There were too many memories, too many rockets flying, and too many empty rooms that were once occupied by her siblings.

Two weeks after her arrival to the homeland, Ziva officially submitted her request for transfer – an application to fulfill the position of Mossad liaison to NCIS headquarters in Washington, D.C. The request was fast approved on the American side – Director Shepard signed the order without a second thought and confirmed with Ziva via e-mail. Her true challenge with her father, the one who had raised the last standing David warrior to be what she was.

They fought, naturally. His last breathing daughter took his anger in stride, waiting for him to finish with a much needed stoic expression that hid everything there was that she wanted to say to him. Everything she wanted to destroy him with. "It is what it is," Ziva said finally. She settled for his own words – those that held her in line for all her years at Mossad through all her assignments. She settled for the words that she knew would hurt.

"Ziva!" Eli tried to call after her. She did not grant him the satisfaction of turning back to face him. Her frame continued to shrink in size as she continued the long hallway leading to the winding staircase. Her curls – always reminding Eli of both Rivka and Tali's – bounced as she headed down in a steady pace. And with that both she and his heartfelt memories were gone.

* * *

Once everything was settled, Ziva made the long journey back to the United States. An apartment was ready and furnished for her in a safe area of town and her things were being shipped slowly as she flew over the waters of the globe. She only had enough time to drop off the things that she traveled with before the Director expected her arrival.

The Navy Yard looked much like she had expected – high buildings, security, ships, and the parking lot where her entire view on the world changed. She stalled by the center of the lot as she recalled the rainy night when she took her brother's last breath. Ziva swore that she could still see droplets of his blood on the cement ground mocking her. Her tongue came across her dry lips as she disappeared in thought, ignoring the blaring horn of the car waiting for her to pass. She looked up eventually to find the long line of cars she was holding up in traffic.

And so it began. The Mossad liaison headed inside to the security desk for her visitor's pass. She was pleasantly surprised when her NCIS credentials were handed over to her instead. While they were temporary copies, she took them with much excitement for what was in store for her with the agency.

Ziva traveled up to the third floor in a full elevator. The agents shuffled their way out to head in the appropriate directions while she made a brief left to enter the bullpen where so much had previously started for her and ended at the same time. The bullpen was empty except for one familiar face. She leaned against the bullpen wall to watch him as he dug into his desk for a toothbrush and a glass. Ziva inched her face forward, confused. The Italian unscrewed the cap of a water bottle and filled the glass with water before pushing the toothbrush inside to dampen it. "Are you undercover as a homo?" Ziva finally inquired.

Tony jumped at the sound of her voice, almost spilling his morning routine onto the contents of his desk. "What are you –" He narrowed his eyes at her. "And it's _hobo_, Ziva. We really need to work on your English, but I repeat – what are you doing here?"

She pushed off the edge to straighten up in front of him. "I have been officially assigned to your team," she informed him. His face did a strange thing then, was he having a stroke? "Director Shepard signed off on the orders last week," Ziva added.

"Uh, no. No, you're…does Gibbs know?"

"I would not be here if he didn't, would I?" She challenged in return.

McGee stepped between them at just the right time, something he would get accustomed to over the years of their working together. "Ziva!" He was as surprised as anyone.

"Guess who's joining the gang, McGee…" Tony gargled as he shoved his toothbrush in his mouth.

McGee settled his backpack on his desk, a small smile on creeping on his face in approval. "Welcome to the team, Ziva. We're glad to have you." A thought entered his mind and his smile grew into an even more ecstatic grin then. "That means I'm not a probie anymore!" He declared more to himself than the others.

Tony rinsed his mouth and spit into the trashcan beside his desk. "You'll always be a probie, _probie." _

"That is disgusting, Tony." Ziva commented, coming around to take a seat at the empty desk opposite his while they awaited Gibbs' entrance. He came around as if on cue and she rose quickly to meet his eyes, not sure what she felt when she looked at him again. The last time she looked into his eyes was not a remarkable day for her and his gaze made her uneasy. "I am looking forward to working with you, Agent Gibbs." Tony and McGee watched their fearless leader for his reaction.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at her, not finding a word for an adequate response. He slammed his cup of hot coffee on his desk and headed out just as he had come in – from the staircase leading to the Director's office upstairs. Ziva watched on beside the two other agents, chewing on her lip. "Perhaps I was wrong; he did not know." Ziva let out a sigh and grabbed the backpack she had come in with. "My things have not yet shipped," her shoulders shrugged. "It is not an issue." Ziva gathered she would be excused as soon as Gibbs was back so she settled on the inevitable conclusion herself before anyone else had to break it to her.

She pulled the strap of her leather bag over her shoulder as Gibbs' voice came ringing down into the bullpen from behind the railing above. "Show her the Yard, McGee," he shouted before turning back to the red-headed Director. A satisfied grin came across her face as she acknowledged his decision to allow her to stay.

Ziva took the small opportunity to come around to Tony's desk and lean her hand against its surface. "Any last words of wisdom before I officially become your partner, Tony?"

He sat back in his not-too-business-casual attire, finishing with his toothbrush and stashed glass for emergency overtime in the office. Tony looked at her then, really looked at her. He hadn't forgotten about the last night that they spent together in her hotel room, the note she had left him, and the personal souvenir. "Your Mossad career would have had more meaning if you'd slept with me," he pressed out his most charming of smiles.

"God, Tony…" McGee muttered with an effortless roll of the eyes. It had become routine over the years they had worked side by side. He nodded his head toward the elevator and tugged Ziva's arm along lightly. The Israeli followed willingly, sneaking one last narrowed look of the eyes to mock his flirtation attempt. "You'll get used to that," she heard McGee tell her as they moved along.

It was what she needed – another time, another town, another everything.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LYRICS: Shattered, by O.A.R.**

**Thank you to every single person for taking their time to give this piece a chance and for sticking with it if you did. I hope you have enjoyed the alternate road I took these characters on while keeping them true to their own esthetics. I am really proud of these 12 chapters and of the integrity I have maintained for all those involved.**

**I am not sure where my next piece will lead. This plot has been with me for quite sometime and I need to think of something equally good in quality for next time. Feel free to PM and discuss potential pieces and story lines - I love to brainstorm. **

**Thank you again, and I hope you have enjoyed the ride as much as I have. **

**Dina**

**P.S. The lyrics information (song/singer) will be added the A/N section of each chapter on Sunday, September 14th 2014.**


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